Everything Changes
by Page of Cups
Summary: Once best friends, now mortal enemies. The story of two people finding their way back. DMRW slash. COMPLETE.
1. Childhood Innocence

**Penname:  Page of Cups**

**Email:  AndromedanPrincess@hotmail.com**

**Title:  Everything Changes**

**Pairing:  Ron Weasley/Draco Malfoy**

**Rating:  R**

**Summary:  Ron and Draco are children, and Ron has really red hair.**

**Caution:  Boy on boy love ahead.  If you don't like it, go away.  If you hate the pairing, why are you reading this?  If you can't take it, just give up.**

**Disclaimer: This story contains characters, locations, and other random things created and/or owned by J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury Publishing, Scholastic, Inc., etc.**** Since no money is being made, no infringement is intended. Section 102(b) of the U.S. Copyright Act states that copyright protection does not extend to ideas, procedures, concepts, principles or discoveries, but the actual words used to express those things. I know. I'm researching my copyright abilities.**

**_Chapter One:  Childhood Innocence_**

****

Sulyn Donnely wanted nothing more than to go home.  It was early in the day, still hours away from noon and her lunch break, and Sulyn found herself wondering why she hadn't taken a different job.  There were twelve small children running about her, and these were only the kids who didn't have tutoring.  After noon, there would be a slew of school-age children arriving, ranging from ages five to ten.  She despised school-age children.

It was early autumn in London and there were dreary skies outside the window of the Ministry Child Care center, located in Diagon Alley for the parents of busy ministry officials.  Sulyn felt the rain reflected her mood.  This wasn't what she thought she would be doing after graduating from Hogwarts two years ago.  With the Dark Lord gone, things were supposed to be prosperous.  How her mother had talked her into watching rowdy toddles, she would never know.

"That's mine!" cried one of the children, and Sulyn shook her head, looking over to see five-year old Lee Jordan in a fight with the Weasley twins.  Part of her didn't want to break it up.  It was rare that Fred and George got along after all, but she felt that their new found alliance should not be at the expense of another.

"George, give Lee back his toy broomstick," said Sulyn, crouching down next to the three boys.

"We aren't even apposed ta bring toy brooms in," said George.  "I know.  You took mine away!"

"I didn't, didn't I?"

Fred and George nodded while Lee snatched the broom and wrapped his arms protectively around his toy.

"I'm sorry, Lee, but I have to follow the rules.  You can have your broom back when it's time to go home."

The twins snickered as Sulyn took the broom away, sighing as Lee kicked Fred in the shin, and ran to the other side of the room.  Placing the broom with other confiscated items, she was about to scold Lee for kicking Fred, but her attention was caught by a small and unpleasant looking middle-aged woman coming her way.  Holding her hand was a child Sulyn had never seen before.  This was going to be a long day.

"Are you Sulyn Donnely?" asked the ill-tempered woman.

"Yes, I am."

"My name is Hyacinth Bishop.  How do you do?" she said, extending her hand.  Sulyn shook it graciously.  "I've been sent to you by your superior, a Miss Rochelle Young."

"Ah, you've found her," cried Miss Young, Sulyn's boss, as she came into view.  "Sulyn, dear, I've got another one for you.  I hope you don't mind.  Kimberly will be back from break in ten minutes so I didn't think one more would matter.  You aren't having a problem, are you?"

"Not at all," Sulyn lied, hoping the kids would refrain from beating each other while Miss Young was there.  Glancing down at the child holding Hyacinth Bishop's hand, she offered him a smile and he looked her over, appraising her.

"His name is Draco Malfoy," said Miss Young.  "Mrs. Bishop is a neighbor of the Malfoys; she'll be bringing him in most mornings and picking him up most evenings.  I believe you know of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, so there will be no problem if they should stop in for him."

Sulyn nodded.  She liked to avoid the Malfoy family at all costs as Narcissa had been several years ahead of her in school and the two didn't get along.  This didn't seem to be avoidable, however.  She couldn't turn away the boy just because he happened to be Narcissa offspring.

As Mrs. Bishop shoved his hand at Sulyn, she instantly felt bad for the child.  He had to be one of the cutest little boys she had ever seen, silver blond hair and very wide gray eyes.  Not a word had been uttered from him as Miss Young and Mrs. Bishop filled Sulyn on everything she needed to know.  He was three years old and would be coming in every day from opening to closing.  The reason for his entry had been that the house elves were too busy to be watching a child of Draco's age.  It was kids like this that reminded Sulyn why she took this job in the first place.  She absolutely abhorred people who didn't take proper care of their children.

"Well, Draco," said Sulyn once Mrs. Bishop and Miss Young had gone, "make yourself at home here.  If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask."

"Why aren't you yelling at me?" he said at last, still looking at her with the big eyes.  She knew he was only three, but it was rather unsettling.

"Why - why should I be yelling at you?"

"I don't know.  Everyone else does.  I thought it was normal."

Biting her lip, Sulyn ran her hand over his hair and the back of his head.  She forced a smile and gave him a small nudge in the shoulder.

"I don't intend on yelling at you unless you do something wrong.  Why don't you go play with some of the other kids?  I'm sure they'd be happy to have you to play with."

Draco nodded and he walked over to an unoccupied spot.  As time went on, Sulyn watched him for weeks.  His routine never failed, as she learned from the other girls who worked at the child care center.  As soon as the center opened in the morning when the sun was just coming up, Mrs. Bishop would be there with Draco.  Taking his usual spot, he entertained himself for most of the day.  Even three weeks later, neither his father nor his mother had brought him in.  Then, at closing, just around dinner time, Mrs. Bishop would pick him up.  Mrs. Bishop, Sulyn learned, also had a dependable trademark.  There wasn't a time she wasn't dragging the poor child along, practically pulling his arm out of its socket, and complaining about how she hated having to watch over him.

~*~

"Give him back his teddy bear, Fred," said Sulyn one Monday only moments after starting her shift.  According to Kimberly, Fred had been stealing his brother's - Ron's - teddy bear all day.

"I don't hafta," said Fred, knowingly.  "He took my toys first."

"It's mine!" shrieked Ron, making an attempt to take back what was rightfully his.

"You do hafta," said George, getting in on the fight.  "Mum said so!  I'm gonna tell on you!"

"No one is going to tell on anyone," said Sulyn, snatching the teddy bear away from Fred and handing it to Ron.  "Stop taking your brother's toys, Fred."

"I'm still telling on you," said George as Sulyn nudged them over to Oliver Wood, who was engaging the other children with his fantastic tale about the broomstick he got for his birthday.

Sitting on the ground, Sulyn went back to playing blocks with Ginny Weasley.  Ten minutes later, her eyes strayed up to land on Draco.  He was still sitting in his usual spot, a stuffed dragon sitting his lap, watching the other children play.  It was the same every day, and Sulyn considered going over to play with him like she and Kimberly often did.  Then, suddenly and unexpectedly, he stood, dragging his stuffed dragon by the tale, and walked over to where Ron Weasley was trying to fix the damage his brother had done to his teddy bear.

"You have really red hair," said Draco, the first thing he managed to say to one of the other children.  Sulyn bit back a laugh as she watched the exchange.

"You have really white hair," said Ron, looking up at Draco.

"My father says it's because I'm a Malfoy."

"What does that mean?"

"I don't know," said Draco, sitting down next to Ron.  "Why does your bear look like that?"

"Cause I'm poor."

"What does that mean?"

"I don't know.  I think it means that when Fred breaks my toys, I can't have new ones."

"That don't sound very fair.  Was Fred that boy who stole your bear before?"

"Yes.  He's my brother.  I have lots of brothers and one sister.  Her name's Ginny but you shouldn't talk to her.  All she does is cry and she's stupid."

"I don't have any brothers or sisters."

"You want one of mine?  My mummy might let you have one."

"Okay.  My name's Draco."

"I'm Ron."

"You want to be my friend?"

"Okay," agreed Ron.  "How comes you usually sit all by yourself over there?"

"I was watching you."

"You were watching me?"

"Yes.  I used to play with my house elves but mother and father said I was coming here to make new friends.  I wanted to pick the bestest person for a friend."

"Am I the bestest person?"

"I think so.  I think you should kick your brother when he steals your toys, though.  If your mummy says I can have a brother, I don't want him."

"You can have George," offered Ron.  "Mummy says they fight lots and Fred's sort of nice when George isn't around."

"Okay," agreed Draco.

~*~

Sulyn watched the boys over a course of months.  It was common knowledge about the feud between the Weasley and Malfoy family, and it made Draco's choice in his best friend all that much more amusing.  Since Lucius Malfoy had never been in to either drop off or pick up his son, and Narcissa had only been there once, she assumed that they neither knew nor cared.  Part of it made her sad, though, thinking that when Draco was older, he probably wouldn't be the same sweet child she knew now.

Closing the storybook she had been reading to the class, Kimberly Dawson placed it aside, and the various children who had been listening scattered.  Sulyn watched Draco and Ron from across the room, a dream team that had become inseparable over the months they spent together.  Ever since his arrival, Draco was one of Sulyn's favorite kids.  As he turned his head slowly to stare at Ron, she suppressed the chuckles that wished to escape her throat.  She sincerely hoped he wouldn't become corrupted in a few years.

"That was a really good story," said Draco, his big eyes seemingly even wider as he nodded.

"It was okay," said Ron, not as interested in the fairy tale as Draco had been.

"It was better than okay.  It was the bestest story I've ever heard."

"I think you need to hear more stories.  My mummy knows some really good ones."

"Why don't you two get washed up for lunch," said Sulyn, coming up behind them and placing her hands on their backs.

"Okay," they said.

They scrambled up and raced to the lavatory with some of the other children.  Kimberly stood in the doorway, helping them wash up, and putting small dollops of soap in their small hands.  Sulyn smiled at the two as she went about setting the table with their lunches, but her attention was caught by a small shriek, and she soon found Ron Weasley's arms wrapped around her legs.

"Ron, what's wrong?"

"It was only a little spider," said Draco, drying his hands on his shirt.  Sulyn vaguely wondered what Lucius Malfoy would say seeing his son doing that.

"It was a big spider," Ron breathed, peering out from behind Sulyn's legs.

"It was a little spider, Ron," said Draco, rolling his eyes.  He flopped down in one of the small, children's sized chairs and began eating his sandwich.  "Anyways, I killed it, so you can go in there now."

"It was a big spider," protested Ron, still clutching to Sulyn's legs and looking up at her.  "Will you come with me?"

"I told ya I killed it," said Draco, shaking his head.

"But what if there's more?"

"Then I'll kill 'em, too."

"Come on, Ron.  Let's get you washed up," said Sulyn, prying one of his arms off her leg and taking his hand.  He clutched to her hand as they approached the bathroom where Kimberly was watching the exchange with a sarcastic smile, shaking her head.

"I don't like spiders," said Ron as Kimberly squirted the soap into his hands.  From somewhere at the lunch table, she could hear Fred and George Weasley snickering.  Hoisting Ron up, Sulyn held him so that he could get his hands under the water, and Kimberly dried him off before patting him on the back and sending him out to eat.

"Were there more spiders?" asked Draco, staring at Ron with his big eyes.

"I didn't see none."

"I told ya I killed it."

"Thank you."

"I don't like spiders too much, either," said Draco, nodding.  "That's why I killed it."

"Look at Draco lying to make Ron feel better," said Kimberly, chuckling.  "Those kids are too cute."

Sulyn nodded, leaning against the door jamb of the lavatory.  Kimberly left her side to feed some of the two-year olds who weren't very good at feeding themselves yet.  The job of cutting sandwiches into little squares for the three year olds fell to Sulyn, and she wasn't sure which job she'd prefer.  Then again, working with ages three to five meant she spent a majority of the day with Ron and Draco.

"Leave him alone!" a voice cried, breaking her out of her reverie, and she rushed over to the lunch table to discover what was going on.

"He's a baby," said one of the bigger three year olds.  "I don't like him."

"Well he's my friend so leave him alone!" shrieked Draco's voice.

"He's scared of spiders," said the boy.

"I am not!" said Ron, throwing pieces of his sandwich in the process.  "I'm not scared!"

"You aren't supposed ta be friends with him anyways.  My father told me.  You're supposed ta be friends with us."  At this, the boy signaled to the boy beside him who was paying more attention to his lunch than to the dispute.

"I don't wanna be friends with you!  You're mean!" said Draco, knocking over the boy's juice.  "Besides, I can be friends with anyone I want to.  My father said so and he's a school governor."

"What's that?"

"It means he yells a lot and tells people what to do."

"No, it don't," said the other boy who finally looked up from his food.

"Yes, it does.  Is your father a school governor?"

"No."

"Then how would you know what one does?"

"Draco, what are you fighting about?" asked Sulyn, kneeling between Ron and Draco.

"They were makin' fun of Ron!" said Draco, pointing across the table.  "They were being mean!"

"He bit me!" said the boy who Sulyn remembered to be Vincent Crabbe.  Gregory Goyle had gone back to his lunch.

"You bit him?"

"It didn't hurt," said Draco.  "He's only pretending it did.  You're being a baby."

"He's a baby," said Vincent, pointing.  Ron's small, round face was becoming very red, causing his freckles to practically disappear.  The color clashed horribly with the ginger shade of his hair and Sulyn brushed her hand over his arms.

"Vincent, I think you need to go to time out.  Now," she said, looking sternly at him.  Gregory sniggered as Vincent stood up from the table and walked over to the time out chair.  "Ron, calm down."

"I'm not a baby."

"No, of course you're not.  You're a big boy."

"I just don't like spiders."

"Of course not," said Sulyn.  "Finish eating and I don't want any more fighting over here or you're all going in time out and your parents will hear about it."

The afternoon was strangely quiet after that.

~*~

Sulyn Donnely never forgot her first group of students at the Ministry Child Care Center, not even twenty years later when she still worked there.  Countless kids had passed through the doors and though she was now manager and there were some she absolutely adored, no one ever compared to three-year old Draco Malfoy and his big, grey eyes.

As the kids grew, Draco was there just as much as ever until his tutoring began.  Less and less was seen of the Weasleys thanks to tutoring as well.  First Fred and George had gone and when they came back for days when Molly needed a rest, Sulyn had been shocked to find out they banded together.  Instead of fighting, they were best friends, and used their tactics against other people instead of against each other.   Ron went next, and Sulyn could still remember the tearful goodbye that had been between Draco and Ron on their last full day.  Ginny went last and Sulyn found herself growing sad now that she only ever saw the children once a month if she was lucky.

A few times over the next two years, Draco and Ron would end up at the center on the same day, and, as always, they would be inseparable.  Some of Sulyn's fears for their friendship diminished knowing that they didn't have many years until Hogwarts.  If their friendship had come this far, she assumed it could go even farther.  However, the last time Sulyn ever saw Draco Malfoy was when he was seven years old.  Lucius Malfoy came to pick him up that day and he never came back.

From how she heard things, Ron and Draco went to Hogwarts together.  Much to her surprise, Draco had been made a Slytherin.  If the Daily Prophet, Witch Weekly, or any source of the rumor mill was an indication, it was impossible to know Draco and Ron had once been friends from observation.  She had always seen it coming, but she never expected the impact it would have on her.   The birth of that friendship had been formed under her very nose, all prejudices unknown to two innocent children.  It made her believe that it was possible to overcome hate and family rivalry.  Now that dream was broken and all that was left were the fractured pieces unable to be reassembled.


	2. I Hate Him

**Penname:  Page of Cups**

**Email:  AndromedanPrincess@hotmail.com**

**Title:  Everything Changes**

**Pairing:  Ron Weasley/Draco Malfoy**

**Rating:  R**

**Summary:  Ron hates him.  Really hates him.**

**Caution:  Boy on boy love ahead.  If you don't like it, go away.  If you hate the pairing, why are you reading this?  If you can't take it, just give up.**

**Disclaimer: This story contains characters, locations, and other random things created and/or owned by J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury Publishing, Scholastic, Inc., etc.**** Since no money is being made, no infringement is intended. Section 102(b) of the U.S. Copyright Act states that copyright protection does not extend to ideas, procedures, concepts, principles or discoveries, but the actual words used to express those things. I know. I'm researching my copyright abilities**

**_Chapter Two:  "I Hate Him!"_**

Ron Weasley crumpled up the piece of parchment in his hands and threw it to the side, glaring at Pigwidgeon who was flying around his head and hooting happily.  Landing by his goblet of pumpkin juice, Pig nipped at Ron's finger in what was probably meant to be a loving gesture.  The sting in his finger was most likely not as bad as Ron made it out to be but he was already in a foul mood and the fact Pig was taking blood again irritated Ron to no extent.

"Clear off," he sneered at the owl.  Pig, however, was not easily offended and hooted, flying over to land on Ron's shoulder.  Sighing, Ron dropped his head in his hands.

"What's wrong, Ron?" asked Hermione, giving Pigwidgeon a loving pet.  "Who was the owl from?"

"My mum," he said, sighing.  Glancing across the Great Hall, Ron caught sight of a familiar head of white blond hair and silver grey eyes grinning maliciously back into his own.  Clenching his fists under the table, Ron glared back at Malfoy.  That eagle owl of his had just flown away after taking a sip of Malfoy's pumpkin juice, which he now pushed away from him.  "It must be nice to be a smarmy bastard who gets whatever he wants."

"What?" said Harry, looking at Ron confused, a look he often wore.  "What about being a smarmy bastard?"

"Malfoy!" cried Ron.  "Always getting those packages from home filled with sweets.  I hope they rot his teeth."

"Ron!  That's not very nice," said Hermione.

"And what has Malfoy ever done to render me to be nice to him?"

"What's wrong?  What was that letter about?"

"I'm not going home for Christmas, okay?" said Ron, glaring at her.  Hermione and Harry fell silent, exchanging glances from across the table.

The only time Ron had ever gone home for Christmas during his stay at Hogwarts was two years ago in their fifth year just before Ginny died.  Before then, it hadn't been a big deal to Ron, staying at Hogwarts more for Harry than for any other reason because Harry had no one else to spend the holiday with.  It seemed unfair to leave him alone.  Then, in the fifth year, every Weasley who continued to go to Hogwarts went home for the holiday.  Harry had been invited as well and it was the last time the entire family had been together.  Several months later Voldemort had attacked Hogsmeade during one of the weekends the students were allowed to go to the village, and Ginny had died along with three other Hogwarts students and two patrons of the Three Broomsticks.

Ever since Ginny's death, the Weasley family had become very strained.  Harry spent his summer holiday with Remus Lupin and his godfather, Sirius, upon Professor Dumbledore's request.  The Weasley family needed time to regroup, and even Bill and Charlie, the two eldest Weasley siblings, were home for much of the holiday.  There was much sympathy from the wizarding community for their loss, especially from Harry who had taken to the family as if it were his own.

As if the tragedy to befall them wasn't bad enough, Hogsmeade visits were cut off the next term at Hogwarts along with the option to go home for Christmas and Easter holidays.  It wasn't safe, and the school was the only place Dumbledore deemed protective for all students.  Families of the students were constantly dying, and a week rarely passed by when someone didn't receive an urgent message from the ministry expressing their condolences for a lost loved one.

Harry's hardest lesson came at the end of the sixth year when he truly realized that you never could know who to trust.  He always thought Ron had been unjust when refusing to trust his brother, but Harry ended up dueling Voldemort in some remote location he had been taken to and barely escaped alive.  Sometimes he wished he had died.  It was more painful to go back to school, look Ron in the face, and know he had seen Percy, heard his voice among the Death Eaters.

Malfoy, surprisingly, had very little to say on the incidents involving Ginny or the duel.  He never brought it up in their fights, which continued just as often if not more than usual.  Harry expected Malfoy to take cheap shots at Ron, using these things to get to him or Harry himself like he so often did.  It never happened, though, and Harry couldn't bring himself to put his heart into their brawls anymore.  Some part of him respected Malfoy for steering clear of such a sensitive subject.

Now, in their seventh year, Ron had been dealing very tersely with everything that had happened in the past two years.  Harry felt dreadfully responsible - feeling Voldemort only attacked the Weasley family because of his close proximity to them.  Ron typically told him he was being foolish when bringing up any sort of thing.  They even got into a row over it, Ron telling Harry that not everything revolved around him.   Harry quickly apologized.  He knew it wasn't easy on Ron, first being known as Harry Potter's best friend and then as the brother of one of the girls who died, just another one of those poor, red-haired Weasleys.

It was early November and there were grey skies out if the enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall was any indication.  Now, with Ron practically seething and sneering down at his porridge, Harry and Hermione were at a loss for words.  Ron had been desperately wanting to go home this Christmas now that Dumbledore said it would be okay despite his misgivings, but here he was with his ruddy letter, and telling them he wasn't going.

"What happened?" said Hermione, finally.  She reached out to tentatively rub Ron's shoulder.

"Mum and Dad are going to visit Bill.  They said there isn't enough money for me to come along, but I think they just want me to stay here.  Said something about Hogwarts being safer anyway."  Grimacing, Ron grabbed the balled up parchment and dropped it into his porridge.  "I hate my life."

"Don't say that, Ron," said Hermione.  "I'm sure it won't be terrible.  I'll stay here, too, and so will Harry.  We'll have a wonderful time together."

"I appreciate the effort, Hermione, but I really want to be alone right now."

"Are you sure?" said Hermione.

"What is the little Weasel crying about now?" came the cold, drawling voice of Draco Malfoy.  Ron's eyes narrowed and he slowly turned around to face him.  "What happened?  Did that plump little mother of yours write to let you know she needed to sell your house so she could continue to feed at such a pace?"

"Leave my mother alone, Malfoy," said Ron, clenching his fists and Harry noticed Ron going for his wand.

Harry paused, unsure of what to do as Hermione watched him from across the table.  An angry Ron plus an insulting Malfoy never yielded positive results.  Ron was already so upset Harry considered letting him hex Malfoy but not wanting to see his friend get in trouble, Harry stood.

"Why don't you go fight with someone who cares, Malfoy?" said Harry, wearily.  "This is neither the time nor the place for us to be dealing with your shit."

"Don't you get sick of Potter fighting your battles for you, Weasley?" drawled Draco, picking at his nails.  "I know I would.  He never lets you stand up for yourself."

"Harry, I can take care of this myself," said Ron.

"That's what he wants you to say, Ron.  He's just trying to get to you."

"I can take care of myself," repeated Ron.

"Sit down, Potter.  I don't think he wants your help," said Draco.

"Ron -"

"Sit down, Harry."

"Nice to see you finally speaking for yourself, Weasley.  I didn't think you had it in you.  It's no wonder no one notices you if you let Potter do everything for you."

"I don't let Harry do everything for me.  Malfoy, I'm not in the mood to deal with you right now.  Move."

"But I'm perfectly happy with where I'm standing," said Draco, shrugging.  "Suppose you'll just have to enjoy my company, Weasel.  I read about your father's raise at the ministry.  It's about time.  I suppose you can each afford your own comb now."  Glancing up at Ron's hair, Draco shook his head disapprovingly.  "Then again, perhaps not."

"Malfoy -" Ron warned, his fingers closing around his wand.

"Tell me, Weasley, what's it like to lick Potter's feet?"

"What's it like to lick Voldemort's?"

Harry practically choked on his breakfast.  Ever since Ginny died, Ron had taken to using Voldemort's name, refusing to give him the satisfaction of fear.  It was a personal battle, but it never got easier to hear it come from Ron's mouth.

Malfoy's lips twitched, and Ron thought for a moment that it was the faint hint of a smile.  Confusion soon abated when his lips twisted into a horrible sneer.

"I would expect something like that out of you, Weasley.  That's very typical."

"You aren't about to win an award for originality any time soon, either."

"Is there a problem here, boys?" said Professor McGonagall, stepping between them.  "Mr. Malfoy?  Mr. Weasley?"

"No, Professor," they chorused, and Ron fingered his wand, ready to hex Malfoy if he should make one false move.

"Remember, no fighting.  You've already lost enough points for both your houses this year.  I would hate to have to send you to Professor Dumbledore.  Honestly, I've never known two seventh years to behave like such children!"

Professor McGonagall passed them to go to the Head Table, her robes billowing behind her in violent flaps.  Draco sneered at her as she went, his grey eyes turning to narrow slits as his lips horribly twisted in a shape Ron thought was unnatural.  Faintly coming from his mouth were curses of the non-magical sort if Ron could depend on his hearing and he felt a strange sense of agreement with Draco.

Glancing at him, the blond once again laid his eyes on Ron, and looked him over, taking inventory.  Ron felt his cheeks heating up as Malfoy surveyed his robes, looking disgusted with the material and the good two inches that they lacked in length.  Saying nothing, Draco cocked his eyebrow in Ron in what could only be taken as some sort of unspoken challenge before motioning for his goons to follow and they left the Hall.

"I hate him!" cried Ron once they had gone, dropping back in his seat next to Harry, and apparently forgetting about his desire to be alone.  "I hate the way he looks at me!  I hate how he always insults my family!  I hate that rich little git and how he gets everything he wants!  Why do things like that always happen to the worst people?"

"I think it's the other way around," said Hermione, gently.  "If you got whatever you wanted, you'd probably act like Malfoy does, too.  A person can only be a good as he's taught.  You've been taught humility and Malfoy's been taught arrogance."

"Whatever he was taught, I hate that slimy git," said Ron, violently stabbing the eggs on his plate, causing a terrible, high-pitched sound from the fork scraping against the dish.  Ron didn't seem to notice.

"I don't like him, either, Ron," said Harry, trying to offer his friend some comfort.

"I really hate him, Harry.  I despise him.  I loathe him.  Hermione, what's another word for hate?"

"Abhor.  Detest -"

"I abhor him.  I detest him," continued Ron.  "And what was that eyebrow thing he did?"  Ron tried to imitate Draco's silent challenge, looking very silly trying to arch his eyebrow and look menacing at the same time.  "What was that?  And did you see the way he looked at me!"

"He looked like he was checking you out," interrupted Seamus Finnigan, snickering.

"He did, didn't he?" said Harry.  "He did a whole body scan."

"That's sick, Harry," said Ron, leaning on the table with his elbow and dropping his forehead to rest on the back of his palm.  "Why me?  Why is it always me that Malfoy has to insult?  I know there's loads of people that he doesn't like.  Why me and why my friends?"

"Harry," said Seamus.  "That's all he cares about.  Getting back at Harry for making him look like a fool first year.  Everyone knows the story about Malfoy offering his friendship and Harry insisting that Malfoy was the wrong sort."

"Everyone knows about that?" said Harry.  Seamus nodded.

"Right, so all he cares about is salvaging dignity.  Does a really rotten job of it, though.  Don't take it personally, Ron.  He insults Hermione, too."

"He doesn't insult _you_," said Ron.

"Sure he does.  Every time I get in Malfoy's way in the corridor he calls me a slutty Irish wanker.  That's what Malfoy does.  He insults people.  Honestly, if anyone's a slut, it's him.  Now, I'm going back to the common room to spend my weekend with my girlfriend."

Seamus gave them a polite wave before pushing his plate away, standing, and heading out of the Great Hall.  Ron watched him go, Seamus's comments rolling in his head and a desire burning in him to get back at Malfoy for the constant chiding he verbally suffered.  After years of these childish squabbles, any time he would end up on the receiving end of Malfoy's reproach, Ron often wished the fights would just end.  They were growing up, maturing, and he had enough of Malfoy to last him a lifetime.

"I'm going back to the dormitory," announced Ron, folding his napkin and tossing it into the center of the table.  "I want to be left alone for awhile."

"Okay," said Hermione, looking nervously across the table to Harry.  They each watched Ron with careful scrutiny as he left.

~*~

Draco Malfoy leaned back into the plushy, emerald green armchair and propped his feet up on the table sitting before him.  Watching the flames lick the embers in the fireplace, he half-listened to Crabbe go on about his latest letter from his father in regards to the ever popular dark mark.  His mind, however, was trained on Ron Weasley, the way he had looked only a few hours before in the Great Hall, staring him down and smoldering.  Draco wished he could have Weasley smoldering in quite a different manner.

"Are you listening, Draco?" asked Crabbe.

"Not really," answered Draco.  This caused Crabbe to scowl at him but Draco ignored it.

"What were you thinking about?"

"Weasley and how pathetic and poor he is," replied Draco.  Crabbe and Goyle chuckled trollishly.

"Why do you always insult him anyway?" said Goyle.  "Potter isn't that important."

"What?" said Draco.  "What does Potter have to do with anything?  Who said anything about that scar-headed moron?"

"Why else would you spend so much time on someone like Weasley?"

Draco paused to stare at Goyle very hard.  It wasn't a particularly attractive sight.

"I'm going to my room.  If you know what's good for, you won't disturb me unless my life depends upon it."

Not waiting for their reply, Draco rolled his eyes at the two boys he considered to be more of bodyguards than anything else and headed for the hallway.  He made it to the prefects corridor in record time before uttering his password and slipping into the Head Boy room.  Discarding his shoes and socks by the bathroom door, Draco made his way over to his bed and dropped down onto it, staring up at the ceiling.

"Weasley, you poor fucker, get out of my head," Draco said aloud to the empty room.

There was very little about Ron Weasley that Draco didn't like, not that he was about to tell a living soul that.  He depended very heavily upon his image and facade to not only get through holidays with his father, but the remainder of his Hogwarts schooling until he could get away.  Lucius Malfoy had been telling Draco to grow up and be a man every since he was seven years old.  What he meant by that was to grow up and be like him.  Sneering, Draco rolled onto his stomach.

"I will never be like you," he muttered.

They were all the same:  hate Potter, hate the Weasleys, hate mudbloods, and honor Voldemort.  Draco tried, did a very good job for a manner of years, but that silly red-headed fucker had gotten in his head.  Crabbe and Goyle were among the many he despised.  Draco was always ragging on Weasley about how he was just another face that never stood out, how people always looked past him and never at him.  He was the kind of person you just forgot existed.  At least that was how it must seem to everyone else.  Draco had a hard time thinking of anything but Weasley.

He really was exquisite.  Ginger red hair that had turned into an exotic copper shade over the years.  Weasley was tall, lean, with strong, broad shoulders.  Sometimes Draco wished he could just look past Weasley like everyone else did.  They didn't know what they were missing.  There was something about Weasley's face, how it would get flushed when Draco made him angry.  Weasley angry was a beautiful thing.

How would he looked flushed for reasons other than anger?  A smirk crossed Draco's face as he thought this, imagining Weasley twisting and writhing beneath him, begging for more.  He could imagine Weasley's voice crying out his name.  Knowing Weasley, it would be one of those low, husky voices, the type that drove Draco wild.  He had many conquests at Hogwarts, but Weasley was a challenge.  Weasley was something else all together.  It was taking Draco's game up to a new level.  There was so much passion that went into their fights, channeling it into sexual prowess would only heighten the experience.  Draco's mind practically exploded just thinking about it, not that he would let Weasley know these things.  At least not yet.  For Draco, it was going to take some time and some careful planning but he would have Weasley.  No mistakes should be made about that.

--------------------------

**What can I say?  Cliché, yes.  Definitely.  Still fun?  I think so.  Besides, clichés are tried and true.**

**Flames will be thrown into my fan, as I am too hot to use them for anything else.**


	3. Aphrodisiac

**Penname:  Page of Cups**

**Email:  AndromedanPrincess@hotmail.com**

**Title:  Everything Changes**

**Pairing:  Ron Weasley/Draco Malfoy**

**Rating:  R**

**Summary:  Draco watches Ron during Potions class.**

**Thanks to everyone who read and/or reviewed.  Thanks to those who read and don't review.  Just . . . thanks.**

**Disclaimer in first two chapters.****  If you don't yet know this is boy on boy love, then it's your own fault if you experience emotional scarring, or come upon something traumatic.**

_Chapter Three:  Aphrodisiac_

Dropping his bag on a desk in the front of the room, Draco sat down and leaned back into his chair.  Checking his wristwatch, he smirked and counted down the seconds until Snape billowed to the front of the room and began to take roll.  Thirty seconds later, the door to the Potions class flew open to reveal Potter and Weasley, both out of breath, bursting into the room.  If Draco weren't so sure that Harry was straight, he would have thought of some nasty comment to make regarding their disheveled states and late arrival.  Snape sneered at them, said something about Potter thinking he was above Hogwarts rules, and took thirty points away from Gryffindor all before starting the lesson.  To Draco, this had to be the best beginning of any class in a long time.

"Peeves," he heard Ron hiss, probably to the jumped up Mudblood, Granger.  Draco nodded.  He knew.  Peeves had Draco's promise for a word of good standing with the Bloody Baron so long as he ensured Potter and Weasley would be late to class.  Not his best work but seeing Gryffindor lose points was always good fun.

"Today we'll be working on the Rapports Excite Potion," said Snape, sounding like he wanted to be anywhere but in this class.  "Can anyone tell me what this potion is for?"

Frowning at Snape, Draco went over the curriculum in his head for this year.  Nowhere did this potion click into place.  Granger, however, seemed to know as she, very slowly, raised her hand.  Snape, sneering, called on her and she tinted pink as she looked around the classroom.

"It's used as a sexual stimulant," she said, quickly and quietly so that Draco barely caught her words.

"Wait," said that Irish wanker, Finnigan, "we're making an aphrodisiac?"  Granger turned even pinker.  "Cool."

"Professor Dumbledore," said Snape, cutting them off, "has insisted that you learn how to make this potion.  It's a new advancement and, for some reason that I am not aware of, has been added to your curriculum.  It will be immediately followed by a birth control potion.  I don't choose the potions; I only make you learn them."

Draco sniggered, hiding his face behind his hand and not wanting to upset his Head of House.  This was too funny, seventh years learning to make an aphrodisiac potion only to be followed by a birth control potion.  It was times like this that Draco wondered just what exactly Dumbledore was smoking and made him wish that the headmaster would spread the wealth.  It was times like this that made Lucius Malfoy breathe deeply, shake his head, and insist that if he were still a school governor, the man wouldn't be working there next year.  In the back of his mind, Draco thought it would be very funny if Neville Longbottom managed to make this potion correctly.

"I am putting you into pairs," said Snape.  "Same sex, pairs, Mr. Finnigan, so don't get that idea into your head.  The list of ingredients is on the board.  Miss Parkinson will be around with the instructions."

As Pansy came up to retrieve the stack of parchments, Snape informed her that she would be paired with Granger.  Draco would feel sympathy for her if he liked Pansy at all but he had a bit of a grudge against her since the fourth year when she tried to feel him up during the Yule Ball.  Draco got around but he preferred the male end of the spectrum.  It hadn't really surprised him when it happened, either.  When he found himself coveting Weasley, however; that was a different pursuit.

"Mr. Malfoy, I trust you are still with us?" said Snape, causing Draco's head to snap up.  He scowled at his professor before remembering what a stupid thing that is to do around Snape.  Had he just kept his inbred Malfoy tendencies to himself, he would have probably gotten off with working with Crabbe or Goyle, but the scowl seemed to infuriate Snape.  "Mr. Malfoy, I think you'll be working with Mr. Weasley."

Why today of all days?  Any other day Snape would have stuck him with Potter, thinking it was the ultimate punishment, but Draco's frequent fights with Weasley lately were causing him to be his partner in a lot of classes.  Everyone from Snape to McGonagall seemed to think they needed to work together.  He supposed the headmaster was behind the whole charade, chuckling at his misery and eating some foolish, muggle sweet.

"I'm no happier about this than you are, Malfoy," said Weasley, noticing Draco's scowl as he sat down beside him.  "Do you think I'd actually want to make an aphrodisiac with you?  I just hope Snape doesn't decide to test it."

Draco couldn't help but hope that Snape would do just that.

Weasley took the parchment from Pansy and went up to collect their ingredients.  Draco watched him as he moved, his perfect body moving in those imperfect robes.  Part of Draco often thought this was treason, putting a specimen like Weasley in tattered rags that only the poorest of the poor could call robes.  Everything about Weasley was tempting from his hair to his freckles to the pale ankles that were just barely visible beneath his too small robes.

Returning, Weasley and Draco set about to start the potion, a project that was going to take close to a month to finish.  Had he been more coherent to the potion, Draco would have thought this was not the easiest way to go about acquiring an aphrodisiac.  Instead of focusing on the lesson, Draco's eyes were fixed on Weasley's pale, freckled wrists and his long, slender fingers, moving with grace as they worked on the potion.  Draco was willing to bet Weasley played the piano, and if he didn't, he really should.

"Are you going to help me with this or not, Malfoy?" said Weasley, glaring at him.

"I think you're doing just fine on your own."

"I'm not doing this all by myself, Malfoy."

"But you play the part of my servant so well."

"I'm not your servant," seethed Weasley.  "This is every bit as much my potion as it is yours."

"Perhaps we should look into joint custody when the assignment is over," drawled Draco, smirking.  Weasley scowled at him and went back to stirring the potion.

Standing, Draco stood by Weasley and reached across him for the parchment, brushing his fingers across Weasley's and letting them linger a little longer than they should have.  Snatching the parchment, Draco looked it over without really seeing it.  Best to do the seduction slow, he thought.  If he was determined to have Weasley, the hardest task would be not to scare him off too early.

"What do I have to add next?" asked Weasley, glancing at the parchment in Draco's hands.

Instead of answering, Draco decided to lean over Weasley again to retrieve the spiders.  He knew Weasley didn't like them, anyway, which was really rather cute and made him all the more attractive.  Making sure to allow his breath to ghost over Weasley's neck, Draco pulled back with the ingredients and added the spiders.  A smirk spread over his lips.  Weasley's breath had certainly hitched at that.

"I could have done that," said Weasley, sounding annoyed.  Draco bet it had more to do with his seduction tactics than the fact he added the spiders first.

"But you wanted me to help with the Potion so badly," said Draco.  "I'm complying with your request.  Make up your bloody mind, Weasley."

"If you want to add the ingredients, you can ask for them instead of leaning over me like that.  It's rude and uncomfortable."

"I wouldn't ask you for water if I were dying of thirst," said Draco, smirking.  "Your family probably couldn't afford to give it to me anyway."

"Malfoy, do you realize we aren't thirteen anymore?" said Weasley, frowning.

"Excuse me?"

"Do you realize we aren't thirteen anymore?  Sometimes I don't think that you do.  You keep going on and on, fighting with me like we're third year kids.  We're practically adults now and all you can do is fight a child's fight."  Weasley gave off a heavy sigh that sounded mildly irritated.  "I don't want to do this anymore, Malfoy."

"Who put a bright idea like that in your head, Weasley?  Was it Granger?  I doubt you could come up with such a concept on you own and that's rich coming from you.  Wasn't it just last week you told me my family all belonged in Azkaban before trying to rip my throat out?"

"You deserved it," mumbled Weasley.

"That was a very adult comment of you, Weasley," said Draco, dryly.  "I can't keep up with you anymore.  You're far too mature for me."  Rolling his eyes, Draco returned the spiders to where they had been sitting, focusing on the lingering contact once again.  He could feel the tension building in Weasley and if only he could force it in a direction of lust rather than anger . . . Draco could feel his entire body shudder at the thought.

Weasley was now stirring the potion and Draco sat back down in his chair, staring up at Weasley and watching him work.  It was some time in the sixth year, probably in September, when he started to fancy Weasley.  He had grown over the summer and turned up at Hogwarts looking more like a man than the boy who had left at the end of fifth year.  His hair had gotten darker to that deep, coppery color Draco loved, and it made his blue eyes seem that much brighter.  The freckles on his body were the first detail Draco noticed after taking in the entire package.  He found himself with the urge to taste every single freckle on that body, wondering where they all went and wanting to know them all.

The thoughts had instantly disgusted Draco.  It wasn't a problem with his sexuality.  Draco had figured that out when he didn't want Pansy's hands all over him at the Yule Ball.  His parents already knew and Draco received a severe beating for it from Lucius but there had been nothing more to it.  It wasn't the sexual thoughts, either.  Draco was accustomed to sex.  He lost his virginity at fourteen and his first boyfriend had been a Slytherin two years ahead of him, a seventh year when Draco was in fifth.   That had also been his last boyfriend.  He found relationships unfulfilling and soon was only in it for the sex, the lust, and the release.

The real problem Draco had dealing with this sudden arousal at the sight of Weasley was just that.  It was Weasley.  He tried to get away from it but it kept coming back to Weasley.  Everything came back to Weasley.  For a year now, Draco had been turning around his intentions, getting Weasley angry on the sole fact that it got him off.  If he wasn't shagging Weasley, he was going to piss him off time and time again.  Certain subjects, like his financial standing, got to Weasley more than others, and those were the ones he tried to focus on.  When he was shagging someone, he was usually thinking of Weasley, and was thankful that he had only slipped once by calling Weasley's name mid-orgasm.  The Ravenclaw, who was also screaming, thankfully hadn't heard.

It inevitably all came down to one thing, and that preyed on his mind as Draco watched Weasley stirring their potion, his face set in concentration.  He just had to have Weasley.  After analyzing this strange turn of what had to be displaced emotions, he came to the conclusion that it was pure lust driving him to this.  Weasley was so pure, so untainted, that all he had probably ever done was kiss.  There were times when Draco thought that you didn't want to shag senseless people that you despise.  A nagging voice kept telling him there was a fine line between hate and - not love - but something.  Lust, maybe.  Draco was incapable of love.  He knew he was treading that line dangerously but it was only lust.  It was a desire to steal Weasley's innocence, to break him and make him hurt.  It was only sex and it was nothing beyond that, but for all that is good, he did want Weasley beneath him.

"What's next, Malfoy?" said Weasley, discontinuing the stirring and breaking Draco's nasty thoughts.

Crossing his legs and trying to think of unsexy thoughts like Potter, Draco looked over the parchment.  "We let it sit for ten minutes and then we have to stir it twenty times counterclockwise.  After that, we're done for today.  It has to sit until the next class."

"Okay," said Weasley.  Going to sit, Draco smirked as he kicked Weasley's chair away and causing the gorgeous object of his indiscretion to land on the floor in a heap.  "Grow up, Malfoy," seethed Weasley, standing up and grabbing his chair.

"But Weasley, what ever would you do without me?" said Draco, pinching the back of Weasley's knee as he readjusted his chair.  Weasley gave a small yelp and Draco raised his eyebrows, appreciating the way Weasley's arse seemed to involuntarily clench upon feeling the sharp sting.

"What did you just do?" demanded Weasley, holding on to his chair and sitting down before he could be assaulted again.

"I thought I saw something on your robes but it was just a worn spot.  I should have known.  They must be older than you are," observed Draco with a smirk.

Scowling, Weasley said, "Are you going to do anything other than torment me?  Something useful, that is?  Like helping with the potion?"

"I am doing something useful.  I'm keeping you in line.  And I don't need to work on the potion, thanks.  I'm not the kind of person who needs an aphrodisiac to get my lovers turned on."

Weasley turned the deepest shade of red that Draco had possibly ever seen him turn, his attention wavering away from Draco and glancing over to where Granger and Pansy looked ready to kill each other.  Softly chuckling at his embarrassment, Draco laid a hand on Weasley's forearm.

"I'm sorry, Weasley.  Haven't you ever heard of sex?"

"I know what sex is," said Weasley, sharply.

"You're such a picture of innocence, aren't you?"

"Sod off, Malfoy."

Draco nodded, still snickering.  Weasley had better be innocent.  Draco was counting on it.  He wanted it to be hard, rough, and he wanted Weasley begging and coming and screaming for more.  Shifting in hair chair, Draco tried to mentally will away the tightening he could feel coming into his groin.  Damning Snape for setting them up as partners, Draco read over the parchment and tried to concentrate on the ingredients.  Running over alternate names and uses, Draco started going down the list.  He hated the effect that someone like Weasley, poor and pathetic, could have on his body.

~*~

Glancing over at Malfoy, Ron saw that he was staring at their instructions, apparently very engrossed in them for someone who had been such a sodding prat only moments ago.  Malfoy never ceased to confuse Ron, though Harry would jokingly say that everyone confused Ron.  One minute he was the purest incarnate of evil, scowling or glaring menacingly, and saying something nasty about his family.  The next moment, Malfoy was smirking, still throwing out insults but in more of a way that Fred and George insulted him.  Sometimes he expected Malfoy to clobber him over the head with a large, stuffed animal and call him Ronniekins.  Then, and this was more recently, there were things like the arched eyebrow and Draco's eyes scanning his body.  Ways that Seamus often said looked like Malfoy was checking him out.  Ron squirmed at the thought and snuck a peek at Malfoy.

Meeting gray eyes, Ron tried to look away but found that he couldn't.  This was a prime example.  Why was Malfoy staring at him like that?  This wasn't the first time that Ron had caught Malfoy staring at him and no matter how hard he tried to figure it out, Malfoy remained one big mystery to him.  He never brought up Ginny when they were fighting, something Ron expected him to do within days after it happened like he had mentioned Cedric to Harry.  There were times when Ron couldn't remember why he hated Malfoy so much.  There were times when he almost liked Malfoy.  Then there were times when he abhorred him with so much passion that it fully consumed him.

Blinking long and hard, Malfoy turned away and said, his voice cracking, "We've got to stir the potion."

"Right," said Ron, standing.  "How many times?"

"I'll do it," said Malfoy, brushing his fingers across Ron's hand and starting to stir the potion.  The back of Ron's hand felt like it was tingling, his nerves going crazy from one simple brush of Malfoy's touch.  He thought he must be going crazy.  Earlier he had thought Malfoy's breath brushed across his neck.  Actually, it probably had and Ron was just sick for thinking it was something more than Malfoy converting oxygen into carbon dioxide.  The small touches were driving him mad.

Ron's breath hitched as Malfoy's eyes landed on him, his hand still stirring their potion.  Neither one spoke, just staring at each other and waiting for something, thought neither knew what it was.  Forcing himself to breathe, Ron vaguely wondered when Malfoy had started to have such an effect on him and what it could possibly mean.  Seamus kept saying that Malfoy was trying to seduce him, and though Ron thought it was ridiculous, it stirred a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach.  Now he was thinking that Malfoy was purposely touching him?  He needed to take some time away from Seamus if he wanted to regain his sanity.  It didn't seem to be a good thing that Ron was imagining Malfoy touching him.

"We're done," said Malfoy.  "All we have to do is put our cauldron on the project table."

"Oh.  All right."

Ron returned their unused ingredients as Malfoy moved their cauldron over to the project table where everyone kept their potions brewing while they weren't in class.  Snape hadn't yet dismissed them so they returned to their table, sitting down beside each other and avoiding words.

Strange as it was, the thing Ron kept coming back to and which bothered him the most was how he had lost so much control of himself when Malfoy alluded to his virginity.  It was no secret that Malfoy got around; he had more lovers in the course of the past year than Ron knew how to keep track of.  Anyone who wanted to get laid with no strings attached could go to Malfoy be they male or female.  Ron had been disgusted upon first learning it, vowing that he was never going to fall into Malfoy's trap.  Harry had laughed and said he didn't think it was going to be a problem.

Why had he gone so red when Malfoy insinuated that Ron was a virgin?  What was wrong with being a virgin?  It wasn't like he hadn't done anything before.  Perhaps it had something to do with Malfoy and his extensive knowledge (if you listened to rumors) on the subject.

"What are you doing this weekend?" said Malfoy.

"Er - why?"

"Just trying to make pleasant conversation.  I'm bored and I'm tired of listening to myself think."

"Oh.   Well - er - I don't know.  Probably the same as always.  I'll do some homework when Hermione bothers me about it, go watch some of Harry's Quidditch practice.  I don't usually know until the weekend is here."

Snorting, Malfoy said, "That is pathetic.  Following Granger's orders and following around Potter?  You need to find a new way to spend your weekends."

"No one asked you for your opinion, Malfoy," Ron sneered.

"That's it for today," interrupted Snape.  "Clean up if you haven't done so already and then you may go."

"Finally," muttered Ron, grabbing his bag and glaring at Malfoy before storming out of the classroom.

"What did you do to him, Malfoy?" asked Harry, not waiting around for an answer before he left with Hermione in search of Ron.

Slumping into his chair, Draco watched the doorway.  "Why is it always my fault?"

**Just a bit of a classified…**

**Am looking for all things Draco/Ron.****  Any stories, links, fanlistings . . . anything you want to pass my way, because this is just the best pairing (not slash pairing, simply pairing) for the fandom, in my eyes.  Thanks.**

**If you want to be notified of updates, email me at AndromedanPrincess@hotmail.com and let me know that you want to be on the Everything Changes list. **


	4. Detention

**Penname:  Page of Cups**

**E-mail:  AndromedanPrincess@hotmail.com**

**Title:  Everything Changes**

**Pairing:  Ron Weasley/Draco Malfoy**

**Rating:  R**

**Summary:  Wherein Draco is pulling the strings, and they've both got detention. **

**Disclaimers and warnings in previous chapters.****  If you don't yet know this is slash, and that Draco is having impure thoughts about a certain Weasley that isn't Ginny, it's your own fault.  Stop skipping ahead to chapter four!**

**Thank you to everyone who read and/or reviewed.  Also, thank you to everyone who gave me links.  I have now come to the conclusion that there is not enough Ron/Draco out there in this world, so I'm happy to announce that I'm starting to plan a another series for this pairing.  Not a sequel, but a story completely separate on its own.**

Chapter Four:  Detention

Rolling over in bed, Ron cracked open an eye to stare at his heavy, scarlet draperies surrounding his four poster bed.  Groaning loudly, Ron shut his eyes again and tried to shut out the sound of the other seventh year boys waking and dressing.  His attempts didn't go well as Seamus, who had obviously heard the groan, ripped back his curtains, and gave Ron a big, bright smile.  It was the smile of a person who shouldn't be so chipper at this time of the morning.

"From that moan, I thought you were getting laid in there," said Seamus.

"It's Saturday.  No class."

Ron closed his eyes again, but Seamus pulled him out of bed, and Ron found himself leaning against the wall.  His eyes ached, his legs ached, and he wanted to go back to sleep.  Now that he was out of bed and standing, however, he knew that all hope was lost.  He could never be able to get comfortable enough again and after glaring at Seamus, Ron wandered out of the dormitory and in the direction of the Gryffindor boys' showers.

"Morning, mate," said Harry, all but skipping up the stairs and rubbing a towel over his messy black hair.  Ron grunted something unintelligible.  "Just got my shower.  I'll wait for you and we can go down to breakfast together.  Hermione's already waiting for me in the common room so hurry if you can."

Nodding, Ron's eyes turned to slits as he tried to block out the sunshine threatening his eyes without relent.  Making his way into the showers, Ron slammed the door behind him, locked it, and began to disrobe.  He didn't even bother lighting the room, and he closed the curtains to leave the room in a dim, pale light.  Turning on the water, Ron's head connected with the wall beside the entrance.  He leaned his forehead against the wall and extended his right hand into the spray, waiting for it to get to the perfect temperature.

After his shower, Ron skipped his pajamas and headed back to the dormitory in only his towel.  It seemed like a good idea at the time but he was getting sick of the catcalls he received, most of them from Seamus, as he made his way back to the dormitory.  Walking in, the door slammed shut behind him and Neville, the only other person in the room, stared at Ron, completely horrified, as he walked over to his bed.  Beads of water were still scattered across his chest, back, and arms, making his freckles look three dimensional in a strange, freakish way.

"Eh - good morning, Ron," said Neville, turning pink and quickly tying on his cloak.

"Morning, Neville," said Ron, wearily.

Neville left out a small yelp before darting from the room and refusing to look back.  Ron chuckled to himself as he dried off and changed into a worn pair of jeans with a hole in the knee and scorch marks around the left cuff (they had previously belonged to Charlie).  After discovering his only jumper options laid in the typically unworn and should be patented maroon Weasley jumper, Ron pulled on his Christmas present from last year.  The sleeves were a tad bit too short and he sighed, barely glancing at himself in the mirror before heading down to the common room.  Ron liked to avoid his appearance at all costs.

"Hey, Ron," said Harry as he came into the common room.  "Seamus told us you were walking around Gryffindor tower naked.  Hermione was disappointed she missed it."

Ron stared at Harry with big eyes, and Hermione elbowed Harry in the ribs.

"I did not, Harry!" she screeched.  Her cheeks had gone bright pink, and she glared at him before turning around, heading out of the portrait hole.

"Why do you say things like that, Harry?" asked Ron, miserably.

"I was kidding!  Merlin, everyone is getting uptight.  Neville came down here all flustered and I asked him if he had run into your naked arse running around up there.  He wouldn't even speak to me before racing out of the common room."

"I wasn't running around naked," said Ron, as they left the common room and headed in the direction of the Great Hall.  "I left my robes in the dorm and instead of putting my pajamas back on I decided to go up to the dorm in my towel.  That's all.  Besides, it isn't like I've got anything to hide.  We change in front of each other all the time."

"How low was it?"

"What?"

"How low was your towel?  If it was really low, then you practically were naked."

"I don't know.  It was a towel!"

"Don't get defensive, Ron.  I'm just trying to cheer you up.  You've been in a right state since we started term."

"A lot happened last year, Harry.  It should be expected."

"I don't like seeing you like this."

"You had your turn to mope in fifth year.  This is my turn."

"Fair enough," Harry agreed as they entered the Great Hall.  Seamus was telling half the Gryffindor table who had already gone to breakfast about Ron wandering around in his towel and now every time one of the younger girls looked at him, they'd turn a bright shade of pink and avoid his eyes, sneaking peeks at him when they thought he wasn't looking.

Across the Hall, Ron caught Malfoy staring at him and Ron sent a scowl right back at him.  Ever since their hostile departure from Potions on Monday, Ron had decided that Malfoy was truly evil.  The Potions class they had on the following Thursday only infuriated him more.  Ron was still having delusions about Malfoy touching him in ways that were too intimate to be casual, like subtle touches of long-time lovers.  If Malfoy was evil, why was Ron still having these thoughts?  Chastising himself for being a bloody pervert, Ron snatched a piece of toast from the table and started to mutilate it.

"Ron," said Harry, gently, prying the toasted bread from Ron's fingers.  "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," he said, tersely.

Ron hated himself.  He wished he could scream out that of course he wasn't okay.  People who were okay didn't mutilate their breakfast foods without any sort of explanation.  People who were okay didn't think people like Malfoy were touching them in intimate gestures.  This brought him back to his original problem.  Didn't everything just always come back to sodding Malfoy?  Dropping his head in his hands, Ron's eyes followed the grain of the Gryffindor Table, thinking of Malfoy and their Potions classes.  Did Ron even want for Malfoy to be touching him in intimate gestures?  That really should have been a stupid and unnecessary question, not even worth taking the time to answer.  However, he wasn't sure how to answer it.

"Ron, were you listening to what I said?" said Hermione, waving a hand before his face.

"What?  I'm sorry, Hermione.  I wasn't listening.  What did you say?"

Her expression softened.  "Are you sure you're okay, Ron?  If there's something wrong, you should tell us."

"Just thinking about the holiday," he lied, forcing a smile.  Hermione looked unconvinced but accepted his answer.  Harry was clueless, eating like a starving man.

"As I was saying, I'm going to the library after breakfast to start that essay for Professor Binns on the ministry.  If anyone wants to go with me -"

"That's okay, Hermione," said Ron.  "We've got three weeks to do it.  I'll get to it later."

She looked disapproving, but gave him a curt nod.  Despite how badly she disliked Ron's and Harry's study habits, she had long ago given up on trying to get them to do their assignments before they were due, much less in full.  The offers always stood but they always rejected and Hermione would smile and accept it.  Ron figured it was good of her to realize it before she wore herself completely out making timetables for each of them for studying.

"Harry?" said Hermione.

"I've got Quidditch practice.  Ron, you coming down to watch?"

Ron was about to nod when Draco's words came into his mind and he hated Malfoy once again for worming his way into his head.  Even though Ron loathed Malfoy with every part of his body, he still couldn't help but concur with some of his sentiments.  He should have something better to do by now than to go watch Harry's Quidditch practices.  There had always been the option of being on the team but Ron was sick of Quidditch thanks to Harry's obsession and he didn't reckon he would like the idea of being in Harry's shadow for something else . . . again.

"I think I'm just going to go back to the dorm."

"But you always come to my practice on Saturday."

"Well today I'm not so in future reference you can say I usually come to your practice on Saturday."

"Ron -"

"I don't appreciate the generalization, Harry.  I'm going back to the dorm.  I don't always have to be at your practice.  I'm sure you'll get through it without me there.  You get through everything else without me anyway."

Without having taken a single bite of anything, Ron stood up from his seat and strode out of the Great Hall, ignoring Harry's and Hermione's calls wafting after him.  Right now, all he wanted was to be alone.  He wanted a moment without Hermione talking about grades and homework assignments, without Harry talking about Quidditch or Cho.  Picking up pace, Ron turned off into a corridor and was walking down it when he heard footsteps behind him and then there was Draco Malfoy, standing beside him and smirking like the cocky bugger he was.

"Not going to Potter's practice I hear."

"What do you want, Malfoy?"

"Nothing at all, Weasley.  Nice jumper, by the way.  I suppose its sets your family back months to afford the yarn to make those things.  Rather small, though, don't you think?" said Malfoy, actually having the audacity to tug on the cuff of Ron's sleeve.

"Go away, Malfoy."

"You don't want my company?  I thought you'd want someone around as you have no friends other than Potty and that mudblood, Granger; and -" here Draco paused to scoff, "you just blew them off.  I wouldn't be surprised if they wanted nothing to do with you for some time."

"Where are your friends?  Off learning how to spell, I suppose."

"It's possible," agreed Draco, causing Ron to scowl.

"Are you stalking me?"

"Why would I stalk someone like you?"

"I don't know.  You tell me.  Every time I turn around, there you are.  It's like you never go away."

"Honestly, why would you even want me to?"

"Because you're an arrogant, selfish, vain little fucker who makes my insides twist to the point where I want to vomit."

"I'm flattered, Weasley.  As much as I appreciate the compliment, however, I think that perhaps you should monitor your language.  What would that dear mother of yours say if she heard you speak like that?"

"Probably make me clean without magic," said Ron.  "My dad, however, would be very proud."

"Your father is a disgrace to the wizarding community.  Between his Muggle Protection Act and his fascination with muggles . . . It mustn't take much to make a man like that proud."

"Why don't you just leave my family alone, Malfoy?"

"Because they're such a joke."  Malfoy's voice broke off into laughter.

Ron stopped in his tracks to stare at Malfoy.  No matter what had happened, he still loved them all, even Percy despite the betrayal.  Whenever he had a nightmare of what happened to Ginny or of losing one of his friends to Voldemort, his mum was always there.  Ron supposed Malfoy didn't know anything like that.  Still, his tolerance was growing thin.  So much had happened to his family and they had worked so hard to not fall apart that Ron couldn't stand to hear Malfoy degrade them.

"Take that back," said Ron, softly.

"What?"

"Take that back.  What you said about my family.  Take it back."

"No," said Malfoy, scowling.

"My family is worth more than yours will ever be," he seethed.  "If anyone has a joke for a family, it's you.  A Death Eater for a father and a drug addict for a mother.  Holidays must be nothing short of wonderful at your home."

"What did you say about my mother?" said Draco, his eyes narrowing.

"Everyone knows your mother is a drug addict," said Ron.  "Ministry busted her over the summer.  You aren't the only one who gets the Daily Prophet."

"Leave my mother out of this, Weasley.  You don't know anything about her or the rest of my family.  This is between you and me."

"What?  You can insult my family but I can't insult yours?"

"At least my family is respected.  Your family is ignored.  And just think, Weasley, you're family is a joke and you're the biggest joke of all.  You've never shone as bright as all those brothers you've got.  You're neglected in a family that is entirely overlooked.  It must be special to be you."

Forgetting his wand, Ron launched himself at Draco.  He wanted to close his hands around Malfoy's neck, break the thing right in half.  He wanted Malfoy struggling to breathe, regretting every word that had just escaped his mouth, but Professor McGonagall got there first.  It hadn't been until after she tore them apart, gave them each detention for that evening, and took fifty points from both Slytherin and Gryffindor that Ron realized they had been fighting right outside of her office.

Sitting in a chair in the common room, Ron looked up upon Hermione and Harry's entrance.  They took one look at him before their smiles fell and they were on either side of him, asking what had happened and what was wrong.

"He said what?" said Harry after Ron explained what had driven him to pounce the way he did.

"You really should just learn to ignore him," said Hermione.  "That's the third time this year you've gotten into a big row with Malfoy.  You're going to get expelled if you keep it up."

"I can't help it, Hermione.  I can't take what he says about my family.  Not after everything that has happened in the last two years.  I couldn't forget it before."

"What Malfoy said was foul," said Harry.  "I just wish you'd have gotten more hits in before McGonagall showed up."

"Me too," said Ron, resting his chin on the heel of his palm.

He had been angry, furious even.  Malfoy always had a way of crawling under his skin and getting to him.  Something about today had been askew, however.  The malice wasn't there and Ron could feel himself experiencing something like embarrassment.  By no means was Malfoy a big person.  He was about a head shorter than Ron, who was actually quite tall for his age.  Malfoy's body was fit, masculine, and he could probably best a few of the seventh year boys but Ron was stronger.  He had attacked someone weaker than he and it made him feel humiliated.  Ron also got the distinct impression that Malfoy had said a good deal of the words that left his mouth only because he wanted Ron to get angry.

Sighing, Ron leaned his head back and vaguely listened to Hermione and Harry argue over Ron's actions.  This thing with Malfoy was already too complicated and he feared it was only going to get worse.

~*~

"Where are you going?" asked Pansy as Draco stood to leave.

"I have detention with McGonagall tonight.  Cleaning trophies without magic or some rot like that."

"How did you get detention?" asked Moira Nott, a friend of Pansy's.

"Got in a fight with Ron Weasley."

"Who's Ron Weasley?" asked Moira.  Draco stared at her.  "What?"

"How do you not know who Ron Weasley is?  He's been in our Potions class since first year!"

"He's friends with Potter and Granger," explained Pansy.

"Who's Granger?"

"That ugly mudblood girl with the bad hair."

"Oh, right.  That girl Witch Weekly called pretty.  Who's Ron Weasley, then?"

"You have to know the _Weasleys_," said Draco.  "He's Potter's friend."

"Is he that poor, red-headed kid?"

Draco scowled at her.  "Yes."

"Okay, then.  I know who you mean.  Why did you fight with him?"

"I was insulting his family and he attacked me."

"You poor dear," cooed Pansy and Draco tried to keep his eyes from involuntarily rolling on their own.  "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," he drawled before stalking out of the Slytherin common room, throughly pissed someone had dared to ask who Ron Weasley was.

Wandering through the corridors, Draco found himself just outside McGonagall's office and he knocked before entering.  Weasley had already arrived and looked just as angry about having this detention as Draco was pleased.  Weasley turned around to glance at him as he entered and Draco frowned upon seeing the shamed expression that came across those gorgeous features.  Highly aware of the faint bruise on his neck from where Ron had attacked him, Draco casually covered it with his palm and looked to his professor.

"Follow me, Mister Malfoy, Mister Weasley," commanded Professor McGonagall.  Weasley and Draco stood to follow her and they found themselves outside the Trophy Room.

"You have two hours," said Professor McGonagall, "to clean every single trophy.  No fighting.  If you do not finish within your time limit, you'll finish under my supervision and will be issued another detention.  This is going to continue until you've learned to work together.  You are both seventh years and I am certain you do not want to be expelled for fighting at such a crucial point in your schooling."

Opening the door, she ushered them up and closed the door behind her upon leaving.

"I can't believe this," muttered Weasley, looking down at the cleaning supplied.  "Like I haven't had enough of cleaning this room."

"Slugs, right?" said Draco, smirking.  "Wasn't that after you tried to hex me with that pathetic wand of yours -"

"Leave my wand out of it, Malfoy.  I don't want to be here any longer than I have to so just shut up so we can get this done with."

Staring at Weasley with something akin to respect, Draco grimaced and grabbed the polish, about to clean.  They worked in silence for an hour and a half, scrubbing.  No matter what he did, Draco couldn't get it out of his mind that Weasley was only a short distance away and they would be alone.  He had felt himself getting hard a long time ago, but now it was impossible to ignore.  Turning and leaning against the wall, Draco watched Weasley work, and he wished more than anything that his hands didn't smell so potently of polish.

"Don't you ever get sick of it, Weasel?"

Ron jumped at hearing Draco's voice and turned around to look at him.

"Get sick of what?"

"Blending in.  Being forgotten and ignored."

"I thought we agreed not to fight."

"I'm not fighting.  I honestly want to know.  Don't you ever get sick of blending in?"

"Of course I do," said Ron, quickly, returning to his polishing.

"I just can't imagine what it must be like," continued Draco.  "No one ever notices you.  Before coming here, I told the other Slytherins I had detention with you and one of them actually had the gall to ask who you were.  I don't understand it."

"What are you rambling about, Malfoy?"

"How do you just keep going on?  How do you just keep faithfully following Potter around even though you know people are always going to look past you to see him?  How does it feel to know that no one notices you?"

"I don't want to fight with you."

"I'm not fighting.  I don't understand what that's like, Weasley.  Don't you understand?  I'm an only child.  All of the attention and pressure is on me.  If I screw up, there's no one to fall back on.  What's it like to not have that pressure?"

His hands still, Ron turned to really stared at Draco.  "I don't know.  I only know what it feels like to be insignificant."

"You aren't insignificant," said Draco, snorting.  "Just because people don't notice you doesn't mean you're insignificant."

"Yes, it does," said Ron, nodding.  "It's the same thing."

"No.  It's really not."

Before Ron could comprehend what was happening, Draco had pressed the heels of his hands into Ron's hipbone and pushed him against the wall.  Flinching, Ron was waiting for the impact, and his eyes flew open upon feeling Draco's lips covering his own.  He could feel himself responding, first hesitant and then with a bit more confidence until the full realization of what was going on hit him, and Ron shoved Draco away from him.

"What the fuck, Malfoy!  What are you doing?"

Draco gave a short laugh and placed his thumb and index finger on either side of Ron's chin to tilt his head down.

"Noticing you."

Licking his lips, Ron stared down at Draco and his eyelids fluttered before shutting upon feeling Malfoy's lips against him once again.  Every vow he had made to keep away from Malfoy and his game of sex melted right out of his head, and he released a low moan when Draco's tongue entered his mouth.  The low, throaty sounds Ron was making only encouraged Draco, making him want Ron more than ever.

Draco didn't know when Ron reversed their positions, but he soon found himself pressed against the wall, his erection painfully tight against his pants.  He could feel that Ron was hard, too, as he moved against him.  Ron's left hand was flat against the wall next to Draco's head and his right hand was planted firmly against Draco's chest, pinning him to the wall.  Their hip bones were slammed against each other, and Draco didn't think he had ever felt so turned on before in all his life.  Weasley was here, his body touching Draco's, and he, who had so often been the dominant one in his former affairs, found it a turn on to be the one being dominated.

Weasley had attached his mouth to Draco's collarbone and was in the middle of a deep suction when the sound of the door knob turning could be heard.

"Shit," muttered Ron, trying to straighten his robes and back far away from Draco.

Professor McGonagall entered, looked between the two boys, took in their disheveled appearances and flushed faces, only to sigh.

"I said no fighting in here.  I can see you haven't finished.  You will stay here under my supervision until you finish this job and I can promise you that you'll be reporting for another detention sometime this week.  I'll owl you with the details."

Trying to hide the erection each boy had tenting his pants, they went back to cleaning, occasionally glancing at each other and thinking the same thing.  This wouldn't be the last detention they were forced together.

**If you want to be notified of when I update, email me at the address at the top of the page, and I will add you to the list.**


	5. Nostalgia

**Penname: Page of Cups******

**E-mail: AndromedanPrincess@hotmail.com******

**Title: Everything Changes******

**Pairing: Ron Weasley/Draco Malfoy******

**Rating: R******

**Summary:  Wherein Ron reveals a secret, and can't get a certain Malfoy off his mind.**

If you haven't read the disclaimers, you've come this far, and you _still don't know its slash and I don't own Harry Potter:  a) you're denser than my sister, and b) it's your own fault. _

_Chapter Five:  Nostalgia_

As soon as Professor McGonagall allowed them to leave, Ron headed for Gryffindor Tower, refusing to look back for the slightest chance that he would meet Draco's eyes.  There was a tugging sense in his mind, the sensation he typically got when someone was watching him, and Ron didn't need to think about someone like Malfoy watching him as he hurried away.  What had happened in there?  One minute he was polishing trophies and he was snogging Malfoy senseless the next.

Increasing his pace, Ron's feet fell in heavy patters across the floor as he ascended staircases to make his way to Gryffindor.  In the pit of his stomach, Ron could feel that same sensation coming back that he typically got from Seamus suggesting Malfoy was checking him out.  A voice in the back of his mind laughed at the thought.  Malfoy probably had been checking him out if he was snogging Ron like that.  This brought Ron back to his more recent question.  Did he want Malfoy checking him out?  Even stranger, did that mean that Malfoy had liked what he'd seen?

"Aravis," said Ron to the Fat Lady.

"Where have you been?  Shouldn't you have been in the common room hours ago?"

"I had detention," he said, sighing.  "Aravis."

"Honestly, what for?  You always seem to have detention."

"I hit Malfoy.  Aravis."

"You hit that boy again?  I think you need to do something about your anger control issues."

"I don't have anger control issues.  _Aravis_."

The Fat Lady snorted at him.  "Three fights in three months with the same person sounds like you do have anger control issues."

"Would you just let me in the common room?"

"No need for you to get snooty.   Password?"

"Aravis," he huffed, glaring at her.

Looking seriously offended, the Fat Lady opened up to reveal the portrait hole and entrance to the Gryffindor common room.  Climbing through, Ron found Hermione to be the only one there anymore.  She was seated by the fire with a blanket over her lap, a book in her hands, and she was fast asleep.  Leaving her sleep and not wanting to talk about what happened at detention anyway he crept past her for the staircase and followed the winding route to the seventh year dormitory.

In the darkness, Ron shut the door behind him and walked over to his bed, pulling back the curtains.  Silently undressing, Ron pulled on his pajama pants but decided not to bother with his top, collapsing into bed and pulling the draperies shut.  He grabbed his pillow and, laying on his stomach, hugged it to his chest.  Lifting his fingers to his lips, Ron ghosted flesh across flesh.  The sensation of Malfoy's lips on his was still vivid in his mind, hot, sweet, and moist.  Ron hadn't kissed many people in his time but he was sure that Malfoy was a very good kisser.  No wonder so many people warmed his bed.

"What the hell was that, Malfoy?" said Ron, softly.

A raging conflict of emotions was building inside him too quickly for Ron to properly adjust.  The tension seemed to be flowing through his veins and into every part of his body.  He could feel it in his arms, his legs, his fingers, though more private parts of his anatomy seemed to be perfectly clear on how they felt about the situation.

"Why Malfoy?" said Ron, burying his face into the pillow.

The emotion Ron Weasley was most acquainted with was anger and then humiliation.  As luck would have it, he managed to be feeling both these things as he lay in bed, thinking of the detention and past three hours he had just spent with Malfoy.  So many times he had claimed that what Malfoy did to people was disgusting and Ron had just about fallen into his trap.  It felt so good, though, to have Malfoy's body pressed against him.  He straddled the line of androgyny (at least in Ron's arms), being smaller than most with girlish hands and a lean figure, but his body was clearly male, with the hard muscles from years of Quidditch.

"What is wrong with me?" Ron wondered aloud.  He briefly hoped that the other boys were fully asleep or they were going to start thinking that Ron was crazy with the way he was talking to himself.

He was angry with Malfoy for - well, for everything.  How dare he touch Ron like that?  How dare he be smart enough to tell Ron he was noticing him?  It didn't take someone with Hermione's eye for detail to know that Ron would cave in to his heart when using a line like that . . . heart?  Was Ron really caving in to his heart?  Did that mean that he did want Malfoy to be noticing him?

"It was a line," said Ron.  "Just a line.  He was trying to get in your pants."  Flipping over in bed, Ron stared up into the darkness.  "I've really got to stop talking to myself."

He actually wanted to be on the receiving end of those looks and touches from Malfoy.  Despite everything Ron had ever heard about him, ever thought about the way Malfoy went about in his sex life, Ron still wanted to be noticed.  This had to be the most pathetic thing he'd ever done.  It wasn't like it was fair, though.  Malfoy was gorgeous.  There would never be a dispute about that.  How was Ron actually expected to turn away someone who looked like Malfoy?  It had to be purely physical.  There was no other explanation other than Ron had suddenly gone very crazy and was actually developing some feeling for Malfoy that wasn't hate.

On second thought, that could be it, couldn't it?  Sometime last year after a row with Malfoy (ironically), Dumbledore had smiled pleasantly at Ron and told him that it took a great amount of passion to hate someone.  Ron had heard the same thing before from his mother, who was always saying it to explain how Fred and George had gone from intense loathing as children to best friends as teenagers and now, adults.  Love and hate were supposed to be separated by a very thin line.  This could all be some displaced abhorrence falsely interpreted to be love.  Or had Dumbledore, in that loony yet keen sense he had, known what Ron was going to start feeling for Malfoy ahead of time?  Had he said that to let Ron know it was okay to have these feelings?  Perhaps he was thinking too much.

How could he have possibly gone and developed feelings for Malfoy?  He was insufferable, intolerable, and everything about him made Ron want to cringe.  Just watching him swagger down the corridors like he owned the school and everyone in it made his insides shrivel.  Nothing was as appalling as watching Malfoy in class, acting like he was highly superior to the others with knowledge of something no one else possessed.

There was also the possibility that this was merely Ron's sex drive, as small as it was, talking.  It could be possible that he was merely reacting to being wanted.  His body didn't have prejudices against pasty ferret Slytherins, though the same could probably be said for over half the people Malfoy had shagged.  Just because he was bloody sexy didn't mean that he was well-liked.

So this was what it felt like to be desired.  This was what it felt like to be desired in a sexual way, never mind the fact it was Malfoy, someone who had come close to topping Ron's list of enemies.  Despite all the self-beating, Ron had to admit that it wasn't so bad to have someone actually look at him.  It was wonderful having Malfoy moving against him.  Ron's past experience had included some prudish kissing with Hermione in fifth year, a drunken snogging session with one of the twin's friends over the summer before sixth year, and what had happened in sixth year, the closest he had ever come to having sex, which involved a seventh year Ravenclaw named Mindy Pratt.  In an attempt to get back at her former boyfriend, a muggle-hating Slytherin, Mindy had cornered Ron after a Charms lesson and led him to believe she was actually interested.  Ron was stupid enough to fall for it and they dated for two weeks before they ended up half-naked in an empty, forgotten classroom.  Mindy broke up with him the moment he stopped it and the said ex-boyfriend impregnated her three days later.

If he gave into Malfoy, things would probably end similarly to the way they had with Mindy.  What would Ron have after that?  At least he left Mindy with his virginity and some dignity in tact.  Malfoy wasn't going to be abated with innocent kissing if Ron suddenly decided he wasn't ready.  If he did go through with it, Malfoy wouldn't declare his endless love for him.  All he had ever cared about with anyone was that he got off.  Ron knew.  He had heard the stories in the halls.

"What happened to him?" Ron softly wondered aloud.  His eyes stung and his throat felt dry and scratchy as he spoke.  "We used to be friends."

Closing his eyes, Ron tried to clear his mind and force sleep to come upon him.

~*~

"Ron, I really think you should tell us what's wrong," said Hermione, peering at Ron over the top of her Arithmancy text.

"Nothing is wrong," he said, sounding weary of the subject, which, truth be told, he was.

"I agree with Hermione for once," said Harry and Hermione looked like she didn't know whether to kill him or hug him.  "You've been acting strange ever since you got up this morning.  You've been acting strange ever since you got that letter from your mum.  Is this all about Christmas?  We told you we'd stay here with you.  Not like I have much of a choice anyway, but you sure beat the Dursleys any day."

"Thanks, Harry," said Ron, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms over his chest.

"I didn't mean it that way.  There's no one else I'd rather spend Christmas holiday with.  You know that."

"I know," said Ron, softly.

"So . . . is it about Christmas?"

"No.  I just - I don't know how to explain it.  Something is on my mind and I'm not ready to talk about it.  I'll let you know if and when I am."

"Okay," said Harry, looking worried.

"Can we at least know what it has to do with?" said Hermione.  "That way we have some idea without you telling us.  You know we'd do anything to help you."

"It's about Malfoy."

"Did he do something to you at detention?" said Harry, sharply.

"Er - something like that.  Look, really, I don't want to talk about it yet."

"If Malfoy hurt you -"

"He didn't hurt me, Harry."

"He didn't - er - mention Ginny, did he?" said Hermione, carefully.

"You don't have to be careful around me when you talk about my sister," snapped Ron.  "No, Malfoy hasn't ever mentioned Ginny.  Neither do you, now that I come to think of it.  Or my mum and dad.  In fact, everyone just pretends like Ginny never existed."

"We don't want to -"

"I don't care what it is you don't want to do right now, Hermione," said Ron, sighing as he dropped his head into his hands.  "I already told you I'm not ready to talk about it and that I would when I'm ready.  I even told you that it had to do with Malfoy.  What more do you want from me?"

"I'm sorry, Ron," she said, looking ashamed of herself.  "I worry about you."

"We all do," added Harry.

"I'd prefer it if you didn't."

"I'll stop worrying about you when you stop worrying about me," said Harry.

"I don't worry about you."

"Really?  You know, last night I had this dream again about Voldemort.  My scar was burning so much it woke me up."

"Did it really?" said Ron, his melancholy mood suddenly forgotten while concern for his friend perked his attention.  "You should go to Dumbledore, Harry."

"It didn't really happen, Ron; I was trying to prove a point."

"That was a rotten trick, Harry."

"I'm sorry.  Forgive me?"

A hint of a smile came across Ron's face.  "Of course."

"Good.  Now that you're in somewhat of better spirits, are you ready to go down to the Great Hall for supper or do Hermione and I have to bring you back food from the kitchens again."

Since last night, Ron had been trying to avoid Malfoy at all costs.  Staying in the common room seemed like a good tactic for achieving his goal and so Ron had refused to go to the Great Hall for breakfast or lunch.  It was getting very close to dinner time now and Ron hesitated.

"I don't know -"

"Gods, is this because of Malfoy?" said Harry, looking irritated again.  "Stop letting that spoilt little ferret get to you.  You know you're worth a million of him and then some."

Hanging his head, Ron tried to avoid Harry's eyes.  "You know what, I think I am going to go."

"Good.  Don't let Malfoy keep you from eating in the Great Hall when you have every right to be there."

Ron was uncharacteristically quiet as they left the common room and headed seven floors down to the Great Hall.  For the entire duration of the walk, Harry kept going off about the many lesser points that made up Draco Malfoy and there were times when Ron got angry at himself for feeling defensive.  Some of the meaner comments Harry was throwing out there made Ron bitter, wanting to defend Malfoy, but he remembered to keep his tongue.

Sitting with his back to the Slytherin table, Ron sat next to Hermione and began to pick at the food before him.  This thing with Draco on his mind was taking a toll on his usually ravenous appetite.  Unable to eat knowing Draco was right across the Hall, Ron chanced sneaking a glance by turning around and peering over at the Slytherin table.

There was Malfoy, his silver eyes going strangely wide seeing Ron turn around to look at him.  A light pink tinge appeared in his cheeks and he held Ron's gaze for a moment before breaking it to look at Crabbe.  The next time Draco glanced over (Ron assumed it was to see if Ron was still staring), his face turned into a disgusted scowl.

"Ron!  What are you doing, Ron?" asked Harry.  Ron turned around to look at him.

"I'm sorry, Harry.  What did you say?"

"What were you doing?"

"Er - nothing."

"Were you looking over at Malfoy?" asked Hermione, now also peering back at him.

"No."

Glancing up, Ron saw that Malfoy and his goons were standing, about ready to leave the hall.  Strutting like Malfoy often did, he looked over at Ron to give him one of his superior Malfoy glances before dismissing him.  Confused and angry, Ron slammed his fist down on the table, said, "I'm sick of his games", and stood up to go after Malfoy.

How dare he look at Ron like that after what happened last night?  How dare he make Ron stay up half the night thinking of what it felt like having Malfoy in such a position?  How dare he act superior after making Ron question his motives all night long?

Hermione and Harry were right behind him as Ron stalked up to Malfoy and tapped him very sharply on the shoulder.  Malfoy's eyebrows were furrowed as he turned around to see who had dared to touch him.  Standing off to the side were Crabbe and Goyle, looking like large, thick guard dogs prepared to attack if Draco should so order.

"What do you want, Weasel?"

"We need to talk.  Alone."

"After last night, I wouldn't spend a moment alone with you even if it meant having to sacrifice my best robes.  It isn't like my father couldn't buy me new ones, anyway.  Your family would have to save for a year to buy you garments fit for a house elf."

"We need to talk."

"I'm not talking to you, Weasel.  I have enough of your filth on me already from that little love tap."  Once again arching his eyebrow in the silent challenge, Draco motioned for Crabbe and Goyle to follow him before McGonagall managed to step in and assign them two detentions for the next week.

"I hate him!" Ron declared before storming ahead in the direction of the Gryffindor common room.

Harry and Hermione were right behind him, silent to allow Ron to cool off.  When they finally got the Fat Lady to stop asking Ron if he had been fighting again, Ron passed through the common room to stomp up to the boys' dormitory.  Hermione and Harry followed.  They hung in the doorway as he stalked over to his bed, ripped back the curtains, dropped onto the mattress, and drew the curtains again.

"You're a girl, Hermione, you aren't supposed to be in here," said Ron from behind the curtains, breaking the tension.  Both Harry and Hermione chuckled.

"Will you come out from in there, Ron?" said Hermione.

"No!"

It was a very childish sort of no and Hermione arched her eyebrows, looking to Harry.  He only shrugged.

"Then can we come in there?" said Harry.  There was no answer.  "We're going to come in there, Ron."  Still no answer.

Walking over to Ron's bed, Harry slightly parted the curtains to Ron's bed and Hermione crawled in first followed by Harry.

"I don't think three grown teenagers were meant to sit in here," said Hermione once Harry had settled himself.  They were seated at the foot of the bed and Ron sat at the head, his knees pulled up to his chest and his chin lightly rested on them.

"I hate him," he said at last, weak.

"A lot of people hate him, Ron," said Hermione.

"I really hate him."

"Why does he upset you so much?"

Ron sighed.

"It's a very long story."

"There's a story?" said Harry, sounding surprised.  "I just thought you hated him for the same reasons he annoys me."

"He's spoilt, annoying, and doesn't know when to shut up?" said Ron.  Harry nodded.  "No, that's not entirely it.  I mean, that's part of it, but. . ."

"What is it, Ron?"

After a long pause, Ron said, "Did I ever tell you Malfoy and I used to be friends?"

"Yeah, right," said Harry, snorting a laugh.  Ron stared at him, jaw set and his eyes devoid of any obvious emotion.

"I think he's serious, Harry," said Hermione, softly.  "When were you friends with Malfoy?"

"When we were little.  Really little.  You know the child care center in Diagon Alley?"

"Yes, I've seen it," said Harry.  "Just beyond Gringotts, right?"

"Right.  Well, money was really tight back then and after doing the figuring, Mum and Dad realized it would be less costly to send us to day care while Mum got a job.  Mum tutored Bill and Charlie before they went to Hogwarts and she was tutoring Percy at the time -"

"Tutoring?" interrupted Harry.

"Yes, tutoring.  Most pureblood wizards don't go to muggle schools for the things you learn in primary school.  Some do, but most get tutored.  Since Mum was already tutoring Percy and had just started with Fred and George, she organized a small class and got paid for doing the tutoring.  Since she was busy, Ginny and I went to the child care center.  Dad got us in real cheap because he works for the ministry.  Fred and George had to come a lot, too, because they were only doing things like learning to write and read and their colors."

"So you went to that center on Diagon Alley?" said Hermione.  Ron nodded.  "I suppose Malfoy went there, too."

"Yes," he said, nodding slowly.  "I was already going there for a few months when Malfoy first showed up.  Most of my earliest memories have Malfoy in them.  It's the strangest thing.  I can distinctly remember the first day he talked to me.  For a long time Malfoy never talked to anyone but the girls who ran the center.  I was the first kid he talked to."

"Malfoy didn't talk to anyone?" said Harry, laughing.  "What?  Did he think he was better than everyone else?"

"No, he was appraising us."

"Appraising you?" 

"Watching us all to decide who would make the best friend."

"And he picked you," said Hermione, smiling.

"Yes.  He picked me."

"So what happened?" said Harry.

"The first thing Malfoy ever said to me was that I had really red hair.  Malfoy was the strangest kid you'd ever meet.  He was always nodding," said Ron, and here he started laughing.  "It was like he had a weak neck or something.  Every time someone said something he agreed with, Malfoy always nodded.  It was this weird, slow nod.  He had this far-off voice, too.  If I had heard of drugs back then, I'd have thought he was doing them and in serious doses."

"Nodding?" said Harry, trying not to laugh.

"Yeah," said Ron.  "Nodding.  Anytime he really liked a story, he'd start nodding and telling me what he thought the finer points of the story was."

"How old were you?" asked Hermione, as amused by the story as Harry was.

"I met him when I was three and he was my best friend until - well - I don't know.  He even bit Crabbe for me once."

"What?"

"Crabbe was making fun of me and Draco bit him."

"Draco?" said Harry.

"What?"

"You said that Draco bit him."

"He did."

"No.  You said Draco instead of Malfoy."

"Oh.  Well, you know, he wasn't Malfoy back then.  He was just Draco.  He had really big eyes."

"Bigger than now?" said Harry.  Hermione swatted him in the chest.  "Abuser."

"Yes, they were bigger than now.  Or maybe it was because he had a small head.  I don't know," said Ron, thinking this over.  "Anyway, when we started tutoring, I didn't see him as much.  I was too busy with my studies and my bloody violin."

"Your violin?" said Hermione.

"In addition to the things muggles have to learn, pureblood families find it important to focus on the arts.  I got Charlie's violin.  And the piano, of course."

"Of course," said Harry, shrugging.  "The only thing I knew how to play was Hide and Seek and I learned that running from Dudley.  For some reason, I was always the one hiding.  Then again, if Dudley was hiding, I wouldn't have wanted to find him."

"I play some piano, but not very well," said Hermione.  "You had to learn piano?"

"Most do.  Percy loves it.  The twins hated it.  I like it.  We also had to learn ballroom dancing, but we don't need to talk about that."

"You can ballroom dance?" said Hermione.  "I wish I had known these things when we were dating.  It's very romantic."

"It's embarrassing and that isn't the topic of this conversation."

"Right.  Malfoy.  What happened, then?"

"I don't know," said Ron, slumping over.  "I hate him.  I really do.  The last time I saw him at the center was when we were seven.  The next time I saw him was in Diagon Alley a month before I got my Hogwarts letter.  It was only in passing and he looked at me like he didn't even know me.  Honestly, I don't think he remembered me.  It had been such a long time and we were so young.  His father had gotten to him."

"It was only three years.  I'd have remembered you," said Harry.

"You don't have a father like Lucius Malfoy.  I've hated him since I was a child and I hate him now.  It was all his fault Draco was afraid to go home when old lady Bishop came to pick him up and I'm willing to bet it's his fault Draco is now so hateful."

"He was afraid to go home?" breathed Hermione.  "Was he beaten?"

"Not that I know of.  He just said he didn't like it there.  Got yelled at a lot.  I don't really know.  By the time Draco was afraid of going home, we were being tutored and I didn't see him every day.  I missed him so much.  I couldn't wait to go to Hogwarts because Draco was going to be there and I was going to have my best friend again."

"Oh, Ron, and look what happened."  Hermione covered her mouth.

"After Diagon Alley, I didn't expect him to remember me.  Not that it didn't hurt -"

"Oh, Ron," she said again, wrapping her arms around his shoulders.  "You hate Malfoy all you want!"

Harry gave Ron a polite smile.  "Girls."

Nodding, Ron grinned and said, "Girls."

~*~

"I hate him!" cried Weasley, stalking toward the Grand Staircase and Draco bit his lip, watching him go.

If only Crabbe and Goyle hadn't been with him or Potter and Granger weren't stalking him as usual.  The retort had been essential.  No one could know things were out of the ordinary between them.  That would interfere with and possibly destroy the plan.

A strange sensation was sinking into him, something that he had heard called guilt.  It felt foreign in his limbs and Draco tried to shake it off as headed for the Slytherin common room.  He didn't want Weasley to hate him.  Not when Draco felt like this about him.

How did he feel?  It was only sex, after all.  No need to get complicated emotions involved.  Draco had tried the relationship road once.  He didn't like the strings that came attached or the potential for heartbreak.  There was no heartbreak when it came to sex.

Why was he feeling guilt for upsetting someone as insignificant as Weasley?  Draco winced at his thought, remembering how Weasley had called himself insignificant only the night before.  He had told Weasley he wasn't insignificant and Draco honestly believed it.  Perhaps he should work on not thinking things like that when it could possibly slip out of his mouth for Weasel's ears to hear.  No!  Draco wasn't considerate!  No one ever mattered to Draco so why was avoiding hurting Weasley so important to him?

_This will all go away once I've had him,_ Draco thought.  _I'm only thinking I'm feeling something more because I haven't buggered his arse yet.  After it happens, he'll be out of my system and I can move on to more refined__ taste._

Yes, that's all it was.  Once Draco had gotten it over with, he could discard Weasley and move on.  All he wanted to do was use him.  Weasley would get over it.  It wasn't like the silly bloke loved him or anything and Weasley was so accustomed to things being used.  Being second hand himself was only right.

Confirming these thoughts, Draco took a deep breath and uttered the password to the Slytherin common room.


	6. What Happened to You?

**Penname:  Page of Cups**

**Email:  AndromedanPrincess@hotmail.com**

**Title:  Everything Changes**

**Pairing:  Ron Weasley/Draco Malfoy**

**Rating:  R**

**Summary:  Goyle's human, Ron gets a surprise, and Draco gets more than he bargained for.**

**Caution:  Boy on boy love.  If this makes you go, "hmm . . ." in a good way, feel free to proceed.  If not, you know where the back button is.**

**Disclaimer:  In the first chapter, I have this lovely official disclaimer that not only makes me smart, but says that I don't own Harry Potter.  If you haven't figured that out by now, you can click the back button, too.**

**If you are an idiot, please don't read this story.  If you are unsure if you're an idiot or not, email me what you think about this story, and I'll let you know.  I don't have time to deal with, "OMG!!!  I luv this story cuz its so cool!"  ****J**  If you aren't an idiot, thank you.****

**_Chapter Six:  "What Happened to You?"_**

Throughout the entire Potions class, Weasel must have said a total of ten words to Draco, all of them having to do with the brewing aphrodisiac.  Over the course of the past few days, Weasley was being more avoidant than ever.  Something akin to remorse was building in Draco for driving Weasley away, if only for the pained expression that was on his face every time they fought, acting positively normal in the eyes of their peers.  They didn't see the fact that Weasley's face didn't get quite as red as it used to or that his eyes, which were normally a startling blue, had gone dark.  Draco didn't like the fact that he did notice nor that he was having any feelings at all.  He had to have him soon or he was going to go completely crazy.  Draco had to have Weasley and it had to be brutal, rough, and unforgiving, anything to banish Weasley from his thoughts.  Someone so undistinguished working his way into Draco's thoughts was messing with his body chemistry.  He wasn't built for that kind of meager existence that Weasley possessed, which caused emotions that he wasn't built for, either.

Despite his many attempts to provoke a reaction out of Weasley, he remained docile.  Sure, the words were still there, but not once did Draco think that he was going to be grabbed by the front of his robes and abused in a way he did not desire.  Crabbe and Goyle were starting to get bored, and Draco had to pick on a third year Hufflepuff just to get out his pent up anger.  It was very unsatisfying.  The kid didn't have the same energy Weasley did.  Even when he had pulled out the mother card, Weasley had just told him to fuck off before storming away.  Granted, it wasn't what he was looking for, but even having Weasel's hands on him in the midst of a brawl was something.  Now it was nowhere to be found.

Today was his day, though.  Draco was certain of it.  He could have killed McGonagall for interrupting his every wet dream come true at that last detention.  Last night was the second detention with Weasel and Draco had anticipated it, hoping to finish what they started and get Weasel out of his mind for good.  It was to no avail, however.  For some reason, McGonagall thought it would be a good idea to make them work in the hospital wing and Madam Pomfrey loomed over their shoulders every five minutes, giving them little time to breathe, much less snog.  Once Weasel was out of his mind and his pants, Draco would have to think up a way to punish both McGonagall and Pomfrey.  Something with enduring pain that went beyond Cruciatus would not be amiss.

Tonight was the third attempt (if you could call the Pomfrey episode an attempt) and Draco was determined to succeed.  No longer did he have to worry about Weasley's reaction.  It didn't take Merlin to notice that Weasel was more than a willing participant at the last encounter.  His biggest problem now was to get away from Crabbe and Goyle, an easy enough task when he was focused, but to find Weasley when he was alone?  Now that was a challenge.  That fight outside McGonagall's office couldn't have gone more the way he wanted it to if Draco had been moving every person in the school at his command.  Luckily, McGonagall had been right where he wanted her and Weasley had been pushed over the edge right when Draco desired.  Chances that his luck would be so good tonight were not so high.  If Granger didn't go to the library like predicted or if Weasley went to Potter's silly Quidditch practice, Draco would be presented with much more difficult circumstances.

"Going to watch Potty fly like a faerie on his broom tonight, Weasel?" said Draco, smirking.

"Not that it's any of your business, Malfoy, but no.  Why do you care what I'm doing anyway?  Want to get me into some more trouble with McGonagall?"

"Not exactly," drawled Draco.  "Are you sure Potty will be okay without his bitch to back him up?  You must be very important for his playing skills."  Weasel rolled his eyes and studied the instructions.  "Well that's it, isn't it?  There's no other reason for you to be so adamant about going to his practices.  It must be very exciting to be Potter's sidekick."

"And it must be very exciting entertaining Crabbe and Goyle," he retorted, not even looking up.  Draco scowled, snatching the parchment out of his hand.

"Put your potions to the side and clean up," announced Snape.  "When you're done, you may leave."

With a flick of his wand, Weasel put out the heat from beneath the cauldron.  He transferred their work over to the project table, scowling at Draco upon his return at not having done any of the cleaning up.  Well, what did he expect from a Malfoy?  Draco wasn't about to clean up anything that someone as lowly as a Weasley was working on, even if it was partially his own.  Not waiting for Weasel to finish the job, Draco grabbed his bag and sauntered out of the classroom.  He was positive that if he turned around, he may just get a glimpse of an angry Weasley.

~*~

Ron had been trying to ignore Malfoy like Hermione often suggested but he felt that Malfoy saw right through him.  The smirks never ceased and now Ron, infuriated, had been left alone to clean up after the potion.  He hated Snape for putting him into this situation and he hated himself for allowing it become worse.  Saying things under his breath that would have shocked his mother, Ron started to shove his things in his bag.  If he had tried to pull a stunt like this, Gryffindor would have lost points for sure, but because it was Malfoy (in one of those favoritisms Snape bestowed on the Slytherins) it was likely he would receive points for the abandonment.  Snape seemed to be smirking at Ron's ill fortune anyway as he sulked out of Potions and headed for Gryffindor.

"What did Malfoy do now?" asked Harry as Ron entered the common room and slumped down to the sofa, spilling his things everywhere.  He unloosened his tie, threw his head back, and left out a long sigh.

"Ditched me to clean up alone.  Snape just loves to torture me."

"He loves to torture me, too.  Want to go do something before dinner?  We can go visit Hagrid or take a walk or something.  I think you need to get Malfoy as far away from your mind as possible."

Feeling the same way, Ron agreed with Harry's sentiments and the boys, deciding to spend some time alone without Hermione, headed out of the portrait hole.  Harry watched Ron from the corner of his eyes, observing the way he sort of dragged his feet across the ground.  There was very little left of the boy he had met on the train when first going to Hogwarts and Harry was filled with immense sadness.  How had things gotten to the point where they had grown so far apart?  Malfoy probably noticed more about Ron than he did.  Between Quidditch and his various girlfriends, Harry had failed to notice this steady decline in his best friend.  He had known it was there the same as he knew his hair was black, but it wasn't something that he had thought about.  Something besides this recent squabble with Malfoy was on his mind and Harry felt that if he had been a better friend and paid attention, he would know what it was.

"I'm sorry, Ron," he said aloud before he could stop himself.  Ron laughed.

"Sorry for what?"

"Er - I'm not really sure.  For not spending as much time with you anymore as we used to, I guess."

"Don't think about it," he said, waving his hand.  "I need some time to myself.  Form an identity other than your other half."

"People do not see you as my other half."

"Yes, they do.  It's okay, Harry.  Really.  I don't mind so much except for when Malfoy throws it in my face next to a comment about my family."

"I'm sorry for avoiding talking about Ginny."

Ron grew quiet for a moment and Harry would have felt bad for bringing it up except it wasn't an awkward sort of silence.  Ron's brows had furrowed, apparently thinking something over, and then he sighed.

"You don't really have to.  I know people don't want to focus on what happened.  It just upsets me.  I lost my little sister and everyone seems to be in denial.  I think Mum still expects her to come home one day.  Very few people seem to actually acknowledge she's gone and it bothers me.  I guess I'm afraid she'll be forgotten."

"We could never forget Ginny," said Harry.  "At least I know I won't, and neither will you.  You're family is going to pull through."

"I know we will.  Just makes me sad is all.  Then there's this thing with Malfoy -" said Ron, before realizing what he was saying and stopped himself.

"What thing with Malfoy?  The fights?"

"Er - yeah.  I'm sick of fighting with him.  We're practically adults now and the only reason I can think of for not liking him now is that he's immature."

"That and his sex games," said Harry, who had been on the receiving end of Ron's rants about Malfoy's sexual behavior too many times to remember.

Turning a bright shade of crimson, Ron said, "Right.  That too."

"There you two are!" said Hermione, walking up to them.  "I've been looking everywhere for you.  Seamus said he hadn't seen you since just after Potions.  What are you doing?"

"Just walking," said Harry.  "Ron needed to brood over his fights with Malfoy."

"Again?" said Hermione, looking at him.  "What did he do this time?  If he hurt you, Ron, I'll slap him again.  I swear it."

"He didn't do anything, really.  He just annoyed me."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah.  I'm sure.  Leave it alone.  What time is it?  I'm starving!"

Hermione grinned at familiar Ron behavior.  "I'd say just about time to go to the Great Hall.  Why?  Is Ron Weasley actually hungry?"

"Famished," he replied, grinning.  Draping an arm around Hermione's shoulders and pushing his Malfoy thoughts as far away as possible, he began to drag her forward.  "To the Great Hall!" he cried in his most Sir Cadogen-like voice.  Harry, snickering, hurried to catch up with them.

As they entered, Ron barely gave a passing glance to the Slytherin table where Malfoy was already seated.

~*~

Draco watched Weasley as he sauntered into the Great Hall looking a lot like Draco imagined he must look when doing the same thing.  Since when did Weasley strut about, especially with that Mudblood piece of trash by his side?  And why did Weasel have his arm around that whore?  As Draco narrowed his eyes, he decided tonight had to be the night before Weasel got some crazy idea that going back to Granger would be a good idea.

"Jealous?" said a voice and Draco's expression twisted, looking to see who had insinuated that he could possibly be jealous of a Mudblood bitch like Granger.  It was Goyle.

"Of what?"

"Granger and the fact Weasley's got his arm around her."

"Why would I be jealous of that?"

"Just that you've been hard for Weasley for months."

"Since when did you string together coherent sentences?"

Goyle snickered at that.  "You wish I were stupid and less observant.  Going to seduce Weasley tonight?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Oh come on, Draco, we all know.  You aren't exactly discreet about it."

"Everyone knows?"

"Way to admit to it, Draco.  Admittance is the first step to recovery."

Scowling, Draco straightened.  "How did you figure it out?"

"You used to moan Weasley's name in your sleep."

"I do what?" said Draco, wide-eyed, and sitting up very straight.

"You used to moan Weasley's name in your sleep," he repeated.  "At first we thought you were having nightmares.  Zabini heard you first.  Then we thought you might be wanking off because you're awfully vocal about that, too.  Then we realized you were asleep.  I wonder if you still do it.  I mean - you're in the Head Boy room and all.  I know you still wank off to him because of the showers."

"You can hear me when I - er -"

"Do you not realize how loud you are?  Half of Slytherin knows when you're getting yourself off.  Tell me, Draco, how is it you need to partake in such an act when you're always having sex?"

"I haven't had sex for two weeks."

"That's because you've probably been wanking off thinking about Weasley."

Still scowling, Draco crossed his arms and gave a curt, "Fine."

"It's okay, Draco.  No need to be embarrassed you're in love with Weasley.  He's poor but no one could call him ugly."

"What did you say?"

"That no one could call him ugly.  Surprisingly, he's a very nice-looking man.  If you're into that kind of thing, anyway."

"Not that.  Before."

"That it was okay?"

"After that."

"You don't need to be embarrassed about being in love with him?"

"That!  What gave you the idea I was in love with him?"

"You say so in your sleep."  Goyle bit off a piece of his steak.

"Liar," Draco muttered under his breath.  "Where's Crabbe?"

"Who cares?"

The bitterness Draco had been feeling dissipated and he turned to look at his friend.

"Why do you say that?"

"Because I don't care.  Do you care?"

"Not really, but why don't you care?  He's _your best friend."_

"Used to be."

"Since when?"

"He got his letter yesterday."

Draco suddenly grew very grave.  Goyle had stopped eating to look at Draco, his steak and potatoes forgotten.

"His initiation letter?" asked Draco, dropping his voice.  Goyle, very slowly, nodded.  "Well?"

"I think he's going to do it."

"We swore we wouldn't.  We're better than that.  Doesn't he know that?"

"I don't know.  He's under a lot of pressure from his father."

"And I'm not?  If any of us is under pressure, than it's me."

"I don't know, Draco.  Did you get yours yet?"

Shaking his head, Draco said, "No.  I think my father is waiting until closer to the end of the year.  I'm not looking forward to it.  He's going to try to kill me when I reject . . . are you?  Still going to reject, I mean.  Now that we've lost Crabbe."

Goyle paused for a moment and then nodded.  "I have to.  Don't think I'm going to join Potter's fan club and wave a little banner in the air, but I can't take that mark.  I can't degrade myself like that."

"Me either.  Zabini?"

"Still mark-free.  His father is still neutral so I expect it will stay that way."

"I expect."

Glancing across the hall, Draco caught sight of Potter leaving the Gryffindor table.  Moments later, the Granger bitch went as well.  Next to him, Goyle sniggered and prodded Draco in the side.

"If you're going to go get him, I suggest you do it now."

With a withered glance, Draco left the Great Hall.  Which way was the Gryffindor common room?  Going the way he remembered Weasel stomping off last night, Draco slipped into an alcove by the Grand Staircase and waited.  It didn't take long.  Less than five minutes later Weasley came walking down the hall, thankfully alone.  Timing it just right, Draco waited until he was directly in front of him before reaching out, grabbing Weasley by his robes, and yanking him into the alcove.

Pinning him against the wall with his hips, Draco said, "Well, hello there, Weasley.  Fancy meeting you here."

"What are you doing, Malfoy?" said Weasley, apprehension lingering in his eyes.

"Finishing what we started.  If you're still a willing party that is."  Draco had dropped his voice to a low, seductive tone and he rolled his hips against Ron's.

The answer wasn't in words, Ron leaning only slightly forward as he twined his fingers in Draco's hair and yanked his head to meet lips with a crushing force.  It was so sudden and up to the caliber Draco had been hoping for that he was drowning in Ron, already hard and moaning into his mouth.  He barely even noticed that he was now pressed against the wall and Ron was the one in control.

Draco was panting as Ron hooked his arms under Draco's legs to hoist him up.  Stone rubbed into the sensitive flesh of Draco's back through layers of school robes as his legs hooked around Ron's waist with only the support of Ron crushing him between his body and the wall to keep him elevated.  Running his tongue along Ron's bottom lip, which had gone to a deep red color, Draco slipped his tongue into the hot caverns of Ron's mouth.  He tasted even sweeter than Draco imagined and he snatched a fistful of Ron's hair, yanked his head back to expose his neck, and wrapped his lips around his Adam's apple.

"Oh, gods, Malfoy," moaned Ron, rolling his erection against Draco's as the suction grew stronger on his neck.

With his free hand, Draco managed to sneak it between their bodies and through Ron's robes to find his trousers.  Something about the fact Ron was still in his uniform was only turning him on more as he undid the zipper to slip his hand inside.  Finding his way through boxers, which were soaked at the front with precum and that Weasley was bursting out of in his arousal, Draco found that Ron had much to be proud of.

"What did you eat as a child?" panted Draco, rubbing his thumb along the underside of Ron's cock.  Ron made a choked sound like he wanted to laugh but was unable to due to the intense pleasure racking his body.

"I need more of you," Ron moaned.  Dropping his legs from around Ron's waist one at a time, Draco guided Ron into a corner of the alcove and began to stroke Ron's length with his fingers.

"Something you like, Weasel?" said Draco, hoping he didn't sound as turned on as he was.  Grunting, Ron nodded furiously.  "You need to say it, Weasley."

"Yes!  I like it!"

"Now, Weasley, not so loud.  Someone might hear you."

Ron made an unintelligible sound that to Draco sounded like a whine mixed with a groan.  Smirking, Draco stepped closer to Ron and increased the pace he was pumping Ron's erection.  "Do you want my mouth on you?"

"I want you to suck me," said Ron, looking straight into Draco's eyes.  His cheeks flushed a furious red and Draco wasn't sure if it was from what they were doing or embarrassment at being forced to say such things to Draco.

"How bad do you want it?"

"Don't play fucking games with me, Malfoy," he managed to say.  "I need you right fucking now."

The last words were said tersely, almost like a threat, and Draco thought it was the scariest he had ever seen Weasley.  The way he said it so clear and soft was unsettling and Draco almost considered complying right then and there.  Finding his mind, he remembered to smirk before removing his hand and zipping Ron's trousers.  From the way Ron was staring, Draco should probably start fearing for his life.

"Don't want that to be over too soon, now do we?" said Draco, desperately hoping he sounded more confidant than he really was.  Weasley wasn't supposed to have this much of an effect over him.  "You can't possibly think I'm going to do such a thing here."

"Malfoy," seethed Weasley.  This time it was clearly a threat.

"Don't get your knickers in a twist, Weasley."  Peering out into the corridor, Draco said, "Follow me."

It was a very rushed walk as they made their way into the prefects corridor and the Head Boy room.  Draco didn't know what they were doing there.  His plan had been to take Weasley in some classroom without the luxuries that were supposed to be involved in meaningful sex, that making love bullshit he heard about.  However, they were here now and even though he couldn't let Weasley know, Draco couldn't wait much longer, either.

Their robes went faster than was comprehensive.  Ron had undressed Draco, leaving only the green and silver Slytherin tie hanging loosely around his neck.  Forming a fist around the tie, Ron dragged Draco on top of him and gasped into his mouth upon feeling their sweat-covered bodies touching in full.

Draco kissed his way across Ron's cheek and along his jaw line.  His tongue snaked out around the neck and licked his way along an imaginary line down Ron's chest and to his navel.  Rubbing at Ron's pelvic bone with his thumb, his fingers skirted across the flesh on his stomach before descending and brushing across his pubic hair.

"Merlin, Weasley, if all the men in your family are built like you, I can see why you have so many siblings."

"Less talk, Malfoy," Ron said in his deep, throaty voice that Draco had been thinking about since the first detention.  There was nothing else he could do but comply.

At the point where Draco and Ron couldn't take it anymore, needed to be inside each other, Draco had been the one to take over.

"Turn over, Weasley," commanded Draco.

"No."

"Weasley, damnit, turn over.  I don't want to hurt you."

Where the fuck had that come from?

"No."

"Fuck, Weasley, just turn over already.  It'll hurt less."

"I want to see you."

Draco understood the sentiment.  He loved to see his lover's face when he came.  Nodding, he kissed Ron in a way that he chided himself for later on.  The only word that could have described it was chaste.  Something he had also prepared for was to be brutal.  He had used his teeth and Weasley would be sporting more bruises in the morning along with hickeys, but it was supposed to be rough.  There was supposed to be nothing gentle.  All Draco wanted to do was fuck Weasley until he couldn't vocalize anymore.  Now, he was preparing Ron for entrance, stretching him, and actually allowing him to get comfortable before sliding himself in.

They rocked against each other, heightened to a euphoria neither one had ever known before.  Ron came first with Draco following shortly after.  Still spent and laying on Draco's bed, Ron frowned as Draco climbed out of bed and headed for the bathroom.

Shutting the door, Draco leaned against it before walking over to the mirror.  He was already sporting a large hickey on the side of his neck and several across his chest, arms, and legs.  There were bruises on his hips and thighs and Draco sighed, closing his eyes.  That hadn't gone the way it was supposed to.  There had been the violence he craved but he may as well have completely surrendered.

"I'll go slow," said Draco, mocking what he had said to Weasley when the red-head confessed he had never shagged before.

Sneering, he reached for his toothbrush.  Weasley was supposed to be out of his system by now.  Maybe if he brushed his teeth, his strange urge to go back into his room and cuddle with Weasley would go away.  Having Weasel's taste lingering in his mouth couldn't be good for ridding himself of his desire.

Rinsing his mouth, Draco stared at himself again.  Weasley was still in his room, laying in his bed, and probably stark naked.  It wasn't just sex, anymore.  Now Draco had a desire to go out there and fucking spoon with the muggle-lover and the obsession with Weasley hadn't been abated in the least.  Every other time he achieved a conquest, he washed up in the bathroom and them told them to leave.  It was expected.  Sex with Draco Malfoy happened once, twice if you were really good, and came with no strings attached.  He didn't desire to snuggle with people.  He didn't want it more after than he had before.  What the hell was going on?

Deciding that he needed to get Weasley out of here if he wanted a chance of ever becoming normal again, Draco emerged from the bathroom.  Ron was still in bed, the blankets drawn up to his chin and apparently embarrassed about being completely naked underneath.  Draco also thought he looked sad, and for a moment, he almost found himself walking over to that bed again.  Stopping himself, Draco repeated in his mind that he needed to do this and began picking up the robes, making it a point to sneer at the state of Ron's.

"What are you doing?" said Ron, meekly.  Weren't so meek twenty minutes ago, were you, Weasley?

"You didn't think you'd actually stay around, did you?" he tried to sneer.  It must have worked because Weasley had gone red again.

"I thought . . . after -"

"I highly doubt you thought.  It was just sex, Weasel, and you were just a hole.  I should think you'd be accustomed to things being used.  Why should you be any different?"

Furious, Ron seemed to have forgotten he was naked and threw off the covers, going for his clothing.  Draco's mouth had gone dry seeing Ron flushed, still slightly sweaty, and angry as all hell.

"You're a bastard, Malfoy, you know that?" he seethed, grimacing at his boxers and pulling on his trousers without them.  "What made you like this, eh?  You weren't always such a bugger."

Caught off-guard at hearing these words while watching Ron pull on his school shirt and then his sweater vest, Draco's head snapped up to meet Ron's eyes.  The blue was more intense than he had ever seen them and Draco swallowed hard.

"What?"

"I actually thought . . . I'm so stupid!"

Licking his lips, Draco said, "I won't disagree with you there, Weasel."

"I can't imagine what made you such an insufferable git."  Ron adjusted his tie, brushed the coppery fringe away from his forehead, and glared into Draco's eyes.  "You used me like that.  How can you treat people like this?  What happened to you over the course of four years that made you such an arse?  You used to be my best mate."

"I was never your friend," said Draco, looking confused.  Ron looked even angrier than he had before.

"No.  I can't expect you to remember, can I?  You probably shut out any memory that doesn't have to do with torture or sex."

"That isn't true.  I have quite a good memory and we were never friends.  I don't know when you hit your head and got that crazy idea in there -"

"Oh, yes, we were."

"No, we weren't."

Draco just wished he would stop talking nonsense and go.  He didn't know how much longer he could keep up this cold, unfeeling facade.  Facade?  Since when?  He was cold and unfeeling.  Bugger, what the fuck was Weasel doing to him?

"Yes, we were!" cried Weasley with such assurance that Draco almost doubted himself.  "We were friends from the time we were three until we were seven!  We went to the child care center in Diagon Alley together!  I was your best friend and you bit Crabbe because he made fun of me!"

There wasn't a response Draco could come up with.  He scowled because someone had been clearly messing with Weasley's brain when it all seemed to hit him at once.  The picture was as clear in his mind as anything had ever been.  Draco had virtually forgotten anything that happened before he was eight but once Weasley had mentioned it, it clicked.  They had been best friends when they were kids.  Ron had been the only person there for him when Lucius started locking him in the dungeons in solitary confinement for punishment.

"I can't believe I let you use me like that!"

Ron's words brought him back to the present and Draco needed Ron to go this very second.  Guilt like he had never felt before was washing over him in multitudes he didn't think he could take.  Ron had been there for him.  He had forgotten Ron but Weasley remembered everything this whole time.  The desire to take Ron in his arms or be taken (Draco didn't really care which, another oddity) was so strong that Draco could barely keep control over his own limbs.

"It was only sex, Weasley," he said.

"Stay away from me, Malfoy.  I don't ever want you near me again."

Ron turned around and stalked toward the door but Draco cried out, "Wait!  Weasley, hold on."

Laying his hand on the doorknob, Ron turned around to glare at Draco.  He had never seen so much hate before in someone's eyes.  What was he doing, asking Weasley to wait?  Sneering at him, Ron shook his head and Draco couldn't hold back anymore.  Crossing the space between them, he took Ron's face between his palms and leaned up to kiss him.

"I told you not to touch me," said Weasley, pushing him away.

After a long pause of the two staring at each other, Draco said, "I forgot."

"What?"

"I forgot we were best friends," he said, softly.  Ron's sneer fell from his face to an unreadable expression.  "I really forgot.  I don't know - I don't know how I could have."

"So, what?  You don't want me to hate you just because we once got along?  You want me to forgive you for using me just because we were friends before we knew anything about purebloods and mudbloods and half-bloods?"

"That's not what I said, Weasley," said Draco, sighing.  "Just because it was sex it doesn't mean it was bad sex.  I fully intend on doing that again."

"I don't think so, Malfoy.  Besides, I've heard your rules.  I don't want to go through this a second time."

"You won't," said Draco before he could stop himself.  The pleading in those two words made him cringe.  "I mean - gods, Weasley.  So I don't typically shag people more than twice.  Let's make an exception."

"You want to be fuck buddies?" said Ron, sounding offended.

"I'm not looking for a relationship," said Draco, tersely.  "I don't believe in them.  And fuck buddies is a really foul way of saying lovers."

"You want me to be your lover?"

Draco tentatively reached out to brush Ron's forearm.

"What would it hurt, Weasel?"

Apparently thinking over, Weasley sighed.  "I don't know."

"Look, the only reason I want you to leave is that Potter and Granger will probably be wondering where you are if you don't rush back.  You really don't want to explain what you were doing, do you?"

Weasley shifted.  "You'd really let me stay if it weren't for Harry and Hermione?"

Wincing, Draco said, "Yeah.  Sure."

Nodding, Ron said, "Okay."

"Okay.  When - er - I'll owl you."

Ron didn't answer but made a slight acknowledgment with his head before turning the knob and slipping into the prefects corridor.

_*Sigh*  Ron's a gullible one, isn't he?_


	7. Titles

**Penname:  Page of Cups**

**Email:  AndromedanPrincess@hotmail.com**

**Title:  Everything Changes**

**Pairing:  Ron Weasley/Draco Malfoy**

**Summary:  It's been awhile and Ron isn't satisfied**

**Caution:  Boy on boy love ahead.  Dangerous territory.  Tread lightly.**

**Disclaimer:  This story contains characters, locations, and other random things created and/or owned by J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury Publishing, Scholastic, Inc., etc.**** Since no money is being made, no infringement is intended. Section 102(b) of the U.S. Copyright Act states that copyright protection does not extend to ideas, procedures, concepts, principles or discoveries, but the actual words used to express those things. I know. I'm researching my copyright abilities.******

**_Chapter Seven:  Titles_**

There was early December frost glistening over the grass outside and Ron wished he had a heavier cloak on as he, Harry, and Hermione headed outside of the castle and in the direction of Hagrid's Hut for Care of Magical Creatures.  Glancing through the other students already crowded near the paddocks, Ron searched for one head of white blond hair and felt himself smile upon seeing it.  Draco was standing between Crabbe and Goyle, his arms wrapped around his torso and looking like he was in an extremely foul mood due to the wind that was currently whipping his hair about.  It was, in a way, a pleasant sight for Ron to be seeing as the only other time he saw Draco without his hair slicked back was when they were in bed together.

"Praise to whatever gods that care!" cried Malfoy.  "We can start class now.  Potter and company have finally arrived."

"Cold, Malfoy?" said Harry, who had been fighting with Draco more and more recently for reasons unknown.  Ron theorized it was so that Draco didn't have to fight with Ron as much.

Brushing back a piece of blond hair, Malfoy sneered.  "Just a bit but I suppose you're just fine.  That scarred head of your must give you some kind of internal heating system."

"Actually, I just had the good sense to put a heating charm on my cloak."

Malfoy pulled a face that Ron wanted to laugh at in a pleasant way instead of the malicious snickers he would have made a month ago.  From the way his lips twisted and his eyes darkened, Ron could tell Malfoy was irritated he hadn't thought of it first.  Now that Ron thought about it, he was irritated he hadn't thought it first.  Harry had to start sharing some of that good sense he kept so well hidden but spoke of so frequently.

"'Ello!" said Hagrid, coming out from the paddock and guiding a large, furry animal with pure white hair and bright, blue eyes.  Ron was strangely reminded of Malfoy, but that could be because almost everything reminded him of Malfoy lately.  "Calle' millydiddles, they are.  'S a common pet fer busy witches an' wizards, you see?  Relieve stress."

"I could use one of those," said Harry, morosely.

"They're 'armless an' I got one fer each of yeh in the paddock."

The girls didn't need for Hagrid to go any further.  Even Hermione was swooning over the millydiddle and she followed Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown into the paddock to retrieve her animal as Hagrid was going on about them eating only plants, preferably fruits.  Ron thought they looked like some muggle toy one of the second year Gryffindor had called a furby.  Where were it's feet and where did it's body end for it's head to begin?

Walking into the paddock after the rush of girls, Ron and Harry started inspecting the millydiddles.  They were all white by nature, according to Hagrid, and made soft, cooing noises when they were happy.  In fact, a soft, cooing sound was filling the entire paddock as they buzzed around Ron's feet.  In size, they weren't very large as the biggest came up to Ron's knees and that one looked huge compared to the rest.  Seamus took the oversized millydiddle and Ron took one in his arms that was about the size of a puppy.

"Weasley," acknowledged Draco, staring down at the millydiddles.

"Malfoy."

It had been a little under a month since they first slept together and Draco proposed making an exception to his shag twice rule.  Since then, they had been together at least twice a week, meeting between classes, after Draco's Quidditch practices, and anytime they could find to be alone.  Most of these meetings Draco had set up and were located anywhere from empty classrooms, the borders of the Forbidden Forest, the Astronomy Tower, or the Head Boy room again.  Ron wasn't particularly pleased with his own behavior but he could finally comprehend why so many people had been eager to get back in bed with Draco a second time.  He couldn't get the blond out of his head and Ron tried to hold himself back from developing any real feelings.  More than once had a person had his or her heart broken at the expense of Draco Malfoy.

As they returned to where the other students had gone, Ron walked over to a nearby tree and sat on the ground, trying to ignore the fact the ground was wet and it was quickly seeping through his robes.

"You're going to get sick sitting in the grass like that," said a cold, drawling voice that could only belong to one person.  Looking up, Ron saw that Malfoy had separated himself from the rest of the class as well and was glancing down at Ron with his millydiddle in his arms.

"What do you care if I get sick, Malfoy?" said Ron, petting his millydiddle and deciding it needed a name.

"Because if you get sick, who will I shag?" said Draco, his voice so low that Ron almost didn't distinguish the words.  "Honestly, Weasley, doesn't that bother you?"

"Not especially.  Does it bother you?"

"Yes.  Just watching you sit in the dampness bothers me."

"Good," said Ron, smirking.

"Ron!  You're going to get sick if you sit in the grass!" said Hermione, coming up beside him.  "You can't get sick this close to Christmas.  There will be so many exams you would miss!"

"What are you bugging him about now, Malfoy?" said Harry, joining them.  "Why can't you just leave Ron alone?"

"Because if I left him alone, Potter, who would remind Weasley that he's even more insignificant than he thinks?" drawled Draco, looking sincere.

Playfully rubbing his millydiddle's fur, Ron looked up and said, "And if Malfoy didn't do that, who would retract his head from his arse long enough to see he's got nothing to be vain about?"

"You're very funny, Weasley.  You and McGonagall should get together and tell jokes."

"You and Seamus should get together and start an organization for the chaste."

"At least I get laid."

"Go away, Malfoy," interrupted Harry.  "We don't want your filthy, ferret claws anywhere near us."

"But then who would I have fun with?  I suppose I could go back over with the class.  That great oaf Hagrid still bursts into tears when I call him inept.  You would think he'd be used to it by now."

"Don't you dare say anything to Hagrid," said Hermione.

Malfoy didn't reply as he grinned wickedly and put one of his hands in the pockets of his robes, still holding his millydiddle with the other.  Supposing the millydiddles did do something for stress, Ron considered handing his to Hermione or Harry.  Ron was nothing short of relaxed and he knew it had nothing to do with the fact he understood what Malfoy was doing better than Malfoy himself probably did.  This was their way of being intimate in public.  It often fueled feelings that needed to be fucked out later.

"My my, Weasley, would you look at the state of these robes," said Malfoy, removing his hand from his robes and brushing his hand over the cuff, carefully sliding his palm across Ron's.

"Don't touch him, Malfoy," said Harry, ripping Draco's hand away.  "Get away from us and don't start anything with Hagrid."

"I'm going, Potter.  No need to embark upon one of your Potter heroism acts."  Draco coolly turned from Harry to glance down at Ron.  "Weasley," he acknowledged, cocking his head slightly to the side before turning around and swaggering back to where Goyle and Crabbe were.

Clutched in Ron's fist was the note Draco had slid into his hand before Harry pulled him away.

~*~

"Where are you going tonight?" asked Hermione.  "You've been going out at night for weeks now and you haven't told Harry or I where."

"Sorry, Hermione, for not telling you every single detail of my life.  I didn't know I couldn't have a life or friends outside of our trio.  From now on, I'll be sure to clear things with you first before I make plans."

"I didn't say that, Ron," she huffed.

"Really, Ron, don't jump down Hermione's throat like that," said Harry.

"Sure, take her side," said Ron.  "Just because I go out at night to be with other people doesn't mean that I have to tell you who or where.  I don't always have to be following you around in your shadow, Harry."

"Where is this coming from?  Did I do something wrong?"

"No," said Ron, sighing.  "Look, I have someone to meet, ten minutes to get there, and I can't be late."

"Is this the same person you've been meeting since November?" asked Hermione.

"Yes, okay?  Now can I go or would you like to berate me some more?"

"I never said you couldn't go," said Hermione.  "Just don't get in trouble, Ron.  It's getting late and Gryffindor can't afford to lose any points right now."

Ron nodded.  After Neville managed to make a sleeping potion instead of a simple flu medipotion, Snape took seventy points from Gryffindor and threatened them with one hundred if they protested.  Being caught out after curfew would not do their house any good right now and Ron did not want to be the one the blame landed on.  Neville was getting enough grief as it was without Ron adding to it.

It was a very rushed walk that Ron made his way to the Head Boy room, Draco's note still laying in one of his pockets.  Trying to force Hermione's and Harry's concerns away, Ron turned into the prefects corridor.  He knew they meant well but he didn't want to be protected.  If he wanted to fuck his life up by doing what he was doing with Malfoy, then that was his own choice.  Giving a rushed knock to the door after checking to see if anyone was hanging around in the halls, Ron grinned as Draco cracked the door open and Ron slipped inside.

"You're just in time," said Draco, husky as he pressed Ron's wrists against the door and kissed him hard on the lips, biting the bottom and tugging at it.

"Hermione wanted to know where I was going," he replied, gasping as Draco rolled his hips forward.

"And what did you tell her?"

Hissing as Draco pressed the entire length of his body against Ron's, he said, "That she didn't need to know every detail of my life."

"Very good, Weasley.  Were you nasty when you said it?"

"I was irritated, Malfoy.  I want them to mind their own business."

"Them?"

"Harry wanted to know, too."

"I think they should mind their own business.  Unless, of course, they want to be invited to the party."

"I don't really fancy sharing you, Malfoy," said Ron, already frustrated with all the talk.  He had been anticipating this moment since he first felt the parchment slide into his hand and he didn't want to wait much longer to be claimed.

"Aren't we selfish?" teased Draco as Ron struggled against his hold.

"A bit," said Ron.  Being stronger, he had managed to get hold of Draco's wrist with one hand and slipped the other out of his grip.  Grabbing the back of Draco's robes with his free hand and twisting Draco's arm behind his back with the other, Ron forced the blond across the room and onto the bed.

There was always a power struggle with them and here the power had shifted already since Ron's arrival.  Draco's left arm was still twisted behind his back, his right arm now pinned to the mattress above his head by Ron's fingers.  Pieces of blond hair had fallen over his forehead and cheeks as Draco turned his head to the side, his cheek slammed into the material.  Normally he wouldn't allow this but Weasley was so much stronger than he was and even if he wasn't, it was a positive change to be dominated.  Draco never thought he'd find it so appealing.

Ron's lips brutally crushed against Draco's as he moved to straddle Draco's hips, his erection poking Draco in the back.  Squirming, Draco released a low moan as Ron licked his way to Draco's neck and began sucking at the pulse point.  When this was over, Draco was definitely going to need that concealment spell.

Releasing the wrist Ron held above Draco's head, he brushed back a piece of blond hair that was laying across the back of Malfoy's pale neck.  Burying his fingers in the blond hair, Ron tightened his fingers around the strands into a painfully tight fist.  Draco yelped at the sensation, slightly starting to thrash as Ron bit into the flesh just below the hairline before soothing the sting away with his tongue.  Finally releasing the arm Ron had pinned behind Draco's back, he readjusted his hand in Draco's hair, hooked his arm around Draco's thigh, and flipped him onto his back.

"You're sinful, Weasley," said Draco, his drawl freakishly sexy in such a position.

Ron wanted to touch more of him, play with him some more before Draco's urge for power took over again, but Draco had already taken charge.  He was still on the bottom but there was no question as to who was in control as Draco undid Ron's cloak and allowed it to drop from his fingers.  He leaned up tug on Ron's earlobe with his teeth as he loosened the Gryffindor tie and pulled his teeth away just long enough to pull the tie over Ron's head.

A slight sting was coursing through every piece of flesh Draco had taken to nipping at with his teeth.  The coppery taste of blood was slowly dripping onto his tongue from a slight split in the chapped flesh of his upper lip that Ron figured Draco must have busted open in one of their more violent kisses.  Then Ron was naked from the waist up and Draco was running his tongue and teeth over his torso, sprinkled with sweat that mixed with Draco's saliva.

Pressing the heel of his right hand into Draco's hip, Ron set about loosening the silver clasp on Draco's cloak.  He was becoming good at undressing Draco single-handedly and once the clasp was undone, Draco shrugged his body out of it.  Ron felt Draco's leg wrapping around his own and Ron prepared himself for the flip.  It was something Draco did all at once and left you disoriented the first few times, so masterful you almost wanted to dominate him so he would do it again.  Now Draco was kneeling over Ron, his knees placed on either side of Ron's hips and he had gone back to tracing the patterns Ron's freckles made across his chest.

Ron had gone back to undressing Draco.  The tie went first, falling from his fingers to the heap of clothes that had been gathered, partly on the bed and mostly on the floor.  The sweater vest and shirt went next, Ron all but ripping the buttons off once he got to the crisp material of the white, collared school shirts.  By the time he got to the button on Draco's trousers, Draco had already been working on Ron's and Ron shimmed out of his first with Draco doing the same not long after.

Briefly wondering if Draco ever wore underwear anymore, Ron dug his nails into the back of Draco's thighs and scraped them along the skin, making bright red lines and drawing the tiniest amount of blood at the origin.  Draco had hooked his thumbs into the band of Ron's boxers before slowly tugging them over his hips and down his legs.  The speed with which he did so was so slow that Ron felt tortured.  He could feel his hips involuntarily buck on their own as Draco nuzzled his face in his inner thigh and bit hard on the flesh.

It never ceased to amaze Ron the way all thought seemed to be lost and his body shook when Draco finally entered him.  He found it hard to hate someone when their head was thrown back in euphoria with pieces of sweaty blond hair clinging to a pale forehead and neck.  They cried each other's surnames upon coming and Draco collapsed on Ron when they finished, completely drained.

"Gods, Weasley," Draco murmured against Ron's stomach.

"I could say the same thing about you," muttered Ron, allowing his fingers to linger in the mess that was once Draco's perfectly slicked back hair.  "Do you know how sexy you look when your hair is like this?"

"I'm sexy when my hair looks like I don't own a comb?"

"No.  Well, yes, but that isn't what I meant.  You look sexy when you're hair isn't all slicked back.  I never would have guessed it was so long.  How do you get it all back?"

"Spell," he replied before rolling off Ron and heading for the bathroom.  It was the same every time.

As Draco cleaned himself up in the bathroom, Ron rolled onto his side and propped his head up on the heel of his hand.

Why was he here like this?  Everything was perfect until Draco went into the bathroom and shut the door, separating them.  It wouldn't be so bad if Draco left the door open or didn't lock it, but Ron could always feel the distance settling in when the lock on that door clicked.  Everything was going so wrong that Ron couldn't stand to continue this.  He hated himself every time he left Draco's room and went back to Gryffindor.

Was he really so sick of being in the shadow's of others that he lavished on any attention he could receive, even if it was Malfoy groping him in the privacy of the Head Boy room (or anywhere they were when the mood took them)?  He knew he needed to stop these meetings if he was going to ever retain any of his dignity but he loved the attention.  Even more, he was developing feelings - strong feelings - for Draco.  He felt weak, and he wondered how he got here, laying naked in Draco Malfoy's bed, hating himself, and feeling for Draco.

Walking into the room, Draco was toweling off his hair (which Ron presumed he had washed) and climbed back under the sheets.  This took Ron by surprise as this had only happened once before.  Typically this was the time when Draco threw his clothes at him and told him to get back before he got in trouble with Filch.  Spooning against him, Draco wrapped an arm around Ron's waist and placed his palm flat against Ron's chest.

"Going to go back soon?" Draco asked, placing his chin on Ron's shoulder.

"Yeah.  Soon," said Ron, yawning.  "You wore me out."

"You always wear me out."

Draco heard Ron chuckle softly and before he could stop himself, he had placed a gentle kiss against a patch of freckles on Ron's shoulder.  What was going on here?  This wasn't supposed to be going on for a month.  Draco supposed he should probably stop these meetings of theirs but it was hard to think about when Weasley was laying before him looking so perfect.  It was going to have to be a coward's way out, then.  Probably a letter by owl.  This had to end.  Weasley wasn't getting out of his head; he was digging his way in further.  Draco couldn't be doing this with Weasley anymore.  If it went on any longer, Draco was afraid he might start developing feelings and Draco Malfoy did not have feelings for anyone, much less a poor as dirt, muggle-loving Weasley.

"What are we?" said Ron, softly.  Draco didn't know how to honestly answer that, so he said the only thing that came to mind.

"What?"

Not his best work, really.

"What are we?  We've been having sex for weeks, we still fight in class . . . I don't know, Malfoy.  I'm confused on what's going on here.  What are we?"

"Do we really need a title?"

"I need a title.  I need to know where and on what grounds I stand with you."

How was Draco supposed to answer when he wasn't sure himself?  This question had been haunting him since the first time with Weasley.

"We're enemies," he finally answered.

"Enemies don't meet in the middle of the night to have sex."

"I don't like you Weasley," Draco spit out.  There was no way Weasley was going to make him have feelings.  Relationships were for losers and mudbloods.  "I don't like you and I've already told you what you are to me.  You're just another hole.  A talented one, but that's it."

Weasley had rolled over in bed now, away from Draco and once he extracted himself from the covers, he started dressing.  Now this looked familiar.  Draco sighed.  He had royally screwed this up but it beat sending an owl to deliver the message anyway.  As long as Weasley was asking for it, Draco wouldn't disappoint.

"So you pant my name like a bitch in heat because I'm just another hole," said Ron, gruffly as he pulled on his shirt.

"I think my vocabulary is having a bad influence on you."

"I need to know, Malfoy," said Ron, finishing dressing as he pulled on his cloak.  "What am I to you?  Am I really just another hole?"

"Stop being such a pussy, Weasley.  We have sex.  That's it."

"Okay," he said, his voice eerily calm.  Running his fingers through his hair, Ron gave Draco a sad smile and Draco realized that Ron hadn't gone flush like usual when they were fighting.  "It's been nice, Malfoy.  See you around."

"Weasley," said Draco, but Ron hadn't listened this time.  He didn't look back as he opened the door to Draco's room and left, not bothering to check the hallways for eyes that shouldn't be seeing him leave.

**This was written before book 5.  Forgive inconsistencies.  Have fixed and edited the next Ron/Draco series that will be coming out, though.  And come on . . . where is the love?  I thought it was going to be everywhere after Weasley is our King and the fact that Ron and Harry seemed to have switched brains. **


	8. Amadeus

**Penname:  Page of Cups**

**Email:  AndromedanPrincess@hotmail.com**

**Title:  Everything Changes**

**Pairing:  Ron Weasley/Draco Malfoy**

**Summary:  Ron feels bad for Amadeus and Draco is starting to look obsessed . . .  (_starting?)_**

**Caution:  Boy on boy love ahead.  If this is not your cup of tea, please go somewhere else.**

**Disclaimer: This story contains characters, locations, and other random things created and/or owned by J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury Publishing, Scholastic, Inc., etc.**** Since no money is being made, no infringement is intended. Section 102(b) of the U.S. Copyright Act states that copyright protection does not extend to ideas, procedures, concepts, principles or discoveries, but the actual words used to express those things. I know. I'm researching my copyright abilities.******

**_Chapter Eight:  Amadeus_**

"What's up with Malfoy?" was the first thing Ron heard as he sat down at the Gryffindor table for breakfast three days later.  He had been civil to Draco in public ever since he left the Head Boy room without looking back.  It was essential that he keep some dignity and after what Draco had said, there was no way that Ron could possibly stay around.  For three days now Ron had been civil, refusing to catch Malfoy's bait.  For three days he had been sending back Malfoy's owls, the letters unopened and unanswered.  For three days now he had been sulking and Malfoy, strangely, was doing the same.

"Who ever knows what's up with Malfoy," sneered Ron.  "Maybe he's coming up with some evil plan to turn each and every one of us over to Voldemort.  Or maybe he's going to kidnap us and take us home to that big manor of his for Daddy to break out the Dark Arts toys and play torture chamber with us.  Merlin knows I've always wanted to play torture chamber with such an expert like Lucius Malfoy."

"Forget what's up with Malfoy.  What's up with you?" said Harry.

"Nothing.  I'm fine.  Perfect, even.  Eat your breakfast, Harry, and stop being so nosy."

"We have Potions today," pointed out Hermione.

"What's your point?" snapped Ron.

"That Malfoy is your partner and today is the most important day of the Potion.  You have to present it to Professor Snape and how he doesn't feel malicious enough to make you taste it.  Can you imagine having to drink an aphrodisiac with Malfoy?"

"Are you going to be okay in class?" asked Harry.

"I'll be fine.  If I were you, Harry, I'd be worried, too.  Your partner is Seamus Finnigan.  He's known for being almost as bad as Malfoy.  Makes you wonder why those two have never hooked up."

"Probably because Seamus is a half-blood," said Harry, inspecting the pieces of toast.  "Did you ever realize that the house elves never burn the toast?  Never.  It's always a perfect golden brown on each side.  Do you think that's part of house elf magic?  I mean, there's got to be a spell that does that.  No one toasts bread to the exact shade of golden brown every time."

"They probably have to get rid of toast that isn't perfect," said Hermione, sniffing.

"Why are you getting started on house elves, Harry?" whined Ron.  "You know it's only going to make Hermione go into her house elf rights speech and I've heard it enough times to last me forever.  Believe me.  I will die a happy man if I never have to hear her bloody house elf campaign again."

"House elves are very important, Ron," said Hermione, crossly.  "Merlin knows you give them enough trouble with sneaking down to the kitchens and asking them to make you food at all hours of the night, not to mention they change your bedding, do you laundry, and have to get that foul smell out of your dormitory.  What is that, anyway?"

"We think it's Seamus and his lovers," said Harry.  Hermione wrinkled her nose and did not go back onto the manner.  "I bet those house elves think something's wrong with Seamus.  His sheets are probably disgusting."

"Malfoy's, too," added Ron, sighing.  He had been a big contribution to that one lately.

"Mail," said Hermione, glad to interrupt as she glanced up to see hundreds of owls pouring into the Great Hall.  Before her dropped a small package, a letter, and a copy of the Daily Prophet.  Harry got nothing as usual, but for the third morning in a row, a Boobook owl swooped down and perched by Ron, apparently waiting for a reply.

"That's the third morning in a row!" said Harry.  "Who is sending you letters?"

"Er - Ron," said Hermione, carefully, catching Harry and Ron's attention.  "Are you seeing someone?"

"What?" asked Ron and Harry started laughing.  "What's so funny, Harry?  Am I undatable or something?"

"No.  It's just that we would know if you were seeing someone, wouldn't we?"  Harry tried to suppress his laughter and looked at Ron seriously, occasionally glancing at the owl.

"I don't tell you everything, you know.  But - I don't know.  I wasn't dating anyone if that answers your question but I was seeing someone," said Ron, sighing.  "What made you figure it out?"

"The fact you've been extremely happy for a few weeks and now you're suddenly miserable.  Through the whole time you were happy, that owl came by about once a week.  Now that you're miserable, it comes every day and you never open the letter.  Then there's the fact that you were leaving the common room a few times a week and you snapped whenever we asked where you were going."

"You were seeing someone?" said Harry, gaping.

"I was seeing someone," confirmed Ron.  "Not dating, mind you.  That's a very important factor.  We got in a fight."

"I figured as much," said Hermione.  "You should at least read the letter and see what she has to say."

"She?" said Ron.  "Oh.  Yeah.  No, I don't think so.  Does anyone have a quill?"

"You really should read it," said Hermione, but she handed over a quill.

"If h - er - she wants to say something to me, she can say it to my face."  Taking the quill, he scribbled Stop sending me letters under his name and gave the owl an affectionate pet.  "Take this back sometime after breakfast, okay?  I'm sorry about this, Amadeus."

The owl hooted softly and gave Ron's finger an affectionate nip before flying away.

"Who were you seeing?" Harry finally asked.

"I'm not ready to talk about it just yet."

"What house is she in?" asked Hermione.  "Can you tell us that much?  Is it a Gryffindor?"

"Er - no, it isn't a Gryffindor."

"Ravenclaw?" asked Harry.

"No."

"You were seeing a Hufflepuff?" asked Hermione, apparently surprised.

Ron sighed.  This was as much truth as he intended on telling them at the moment anyway.

"No," he said, finally.

"But that leaves only Slytherin," said Hermione.

"I know."

It really was quite comical the way Hermione grew quiet and stared down at her plate while Harry was gaping so much at Ron that he felt like everyone in the Hall must have noticed by now.  Trying to ignore the fact that Harry wasn't taking this the way he would have liked, Ron went back to the bacon on his plate and started picking it apart into tiny pieces before shoving them in his mouth.

"You were seeing a Slytherin?" said Harry at last.  Ron nodded.  "You were seeing a Slytherin?  The house you hate more than anything in the world?"

"They aren't all bad," Ron said, wondering why he was coming to the Slytherin defense when he and Malfoy were - well - he couldn't call them broken up.  No longer shagging was more like it.

"Is she in our year?" asked Hermione.

"I'm not telling you any more than that she was a Slytherin for the time being," said Ron.  "What do we have first today?"

"Transfiguration.   Then it's Defense and after lunch all we have is Potions.  Maybe you'll get lucky and Professor Snape won't get to you and Malfoy today.  I'm in trouble, though.  Parkinson did nothing and I hate Professor Snape for making me work with her all the time.  He knows how much I hate her and puts me with her just so that he can torture me.  All I do is answer his questions.  Why does that make me so bad?"

"Because you're insufferable and a know it all," said Ron, smirking.  Hermione rolled her eyes.

"I'm going back to the common room to get my books.  I'll see you in Transfiguration."

Standing abruptly, Hermione left the table and the Great Hall.

"Will you really not tell me who you were seeing?" asked Harry once she had gone.  "And why hadn't you told me you were seeing someone in the first place.  I would have been understanding even if it was a Slytherin."

"I don't know, Harry, I just didn't.  I don't feel like talking about it."

"What does it mean by you were seeing her but not dating her?" said Harry, suddenly soft.  "Were you - er -"

"Shagging?" asked Ron.  Harry didn't answer.  "What do you want to know, Harry?  Was I just having sex with her?  Baking pies?  Torturing house elves and getting the dark mark together?  What do you really want to ask me?"

"I just want to know what the difference between dating and seeing someone is."

"Well, we were not a couple because she doesn't believe in relationships but yes, we were shagging.  That's why we got into a fight, okay?  I want something more and I'm not going to get it."

"Oh," said Harry, growing quiet.  "Sorry.  I didn't know -"

"It's okay.  You couldn't know.  I haven't been telling you anything, remember?"

"I still didn't mean to upset you.  If I had known -"

"I know, Harry.  You don't need to apologize.  You know, we better get going to Transfiguration.  I don't know who's wrath would be worse if we were late, McGonagall's or Hermione's."

"They'd both be bad," agreed Harry, giving Ron a reassuring smile before they left the Great Hall.

~*~

"I don't believe this!" said Draco as Amadeus landed on his shoulder.  Draco untied the letter from the owl's leg and he hooted happily, glad to be free of the burden, and flew for what Draco assumed was the owlery.

"Weasley send your letter back again?" asked Goyle, walking up to join Draco.

"What makes you think I'm sending letters to Weasley?"

"The fact that Amadeus has been to Weasley every morning and he hasn't answered one of your letters.  Just because everyone else only sees you with your father's eagle owl doesn't mean that I haven't seen your owl, okay?"

"When did you become observant of the daily workings of my life?"

"I've always been.  It's just now I'm free to talk to you about them.  With Crabbe ignoring us until we agree to join the club of slaves, there isn't much else I have to do with my time.  That and I know you and Weasley haven't been shagging since he left your room three days ago.  In fact, he's ignoring you all together.  What did you do?"

"He wanted to know what our title was."

"And what did you say?"

"He was just a hole."

Goyle's face twisted horribly.

"You actually said that?"

"It's true."

"You keep lying to yourself, Draco.  I've never seen you this happy before, not even when you were with Anthony Tice."

"Was it really necessary to bring him up."

"I'm your friend, aren't I?"

"We have been since we were nine," said Draco, plainly.

"Then trust me enough to talk to me.  I talk to you all the time."

"I'm a very private person."

"You've only been private toward me since you let Anthony walk all over you."

"I didn't want Anthony, you know.  My father set that up."

"I know, but ever since you've been jumping from person to person like your sex drive never runs low.  Don't you get sick of it, Draco?"

"No one matters to me, Greg.  When people matter to you, you get hurt."

"Yeah, but it's too late for that, isn't it?  Weasley's mattered to you since before you remember.  He wormed his way in before you were being careful about who got in."

Draco remained silent, walking past the doors to the Great Hall as he suddenly decided he wasn't very hungry for lunch.  Goyle followed, walking just behind him as they went outside and started to circle the grounds despite the fact it was windy and overcast.  Glancing up at the sky, Draco deduced that it was probably going to snow some time tonight.  Turning to look at Goyle, he shook his head and sighed.

"Relationships don't work, Goyle.  I've been in one.  People cheat on you and they stomp all over any emotions you may have been feeling without any disregard."

"Sounds like someone I know," said Goyle, looking pointedly at Draco.  "It doesn't take a title to do that to a person.  You've been very hypocritical, you know that?  Just because Anthony didn't give a shit about you doesn't mean you need to do it to someone else.  If you wanted nothing to do with Weasley anymore, you should have just said so."

"I'm nothing like Anthony."

"You're exactly like Anthony, only he had the balls to admit it."

"Anthony used me, Goyle."

"You used Weasley.  You've used half of this school."

"They were willing participants and they knew what they were getting into."

"Tell that to Weasley."

"He doesn't want to speak to me.  I've apologized countless times."

"In the letters you knew he would send back?"  Goyle laughed.  "That doesn't mean much, Draco.  You know, if you'd have told me that this is what would happen to you and Weasley when we were six or seven, I'd have never believed you.  I thought you treated your friends better than that."

"Weasley and I aren't friends anymore."

"Your father saw to that."

Staring out across the lake, Draco wished the giant squid would appear to give him some kind of distraction from Goyle's words.  It was bad enough that these thoughts surfaced in his mind when he was alone but he didn't need someone else confirming them.  He did remember having Weasley for a friend now.  Then, when Lucius discovered who his son had been playing with all those years, Draco had been removed from the care center and was stuck in solitary confinement for the longest time he ever spent in there.  It had been a big change, going from being showered with affection at five to being shoved in dark closets for being bad when he was six.  He spent a month in the dungeons with only water and bread for being friends with Weasley.  In retrospect, it still seemed worth it.

Then there was Anthony.  After Lucius finally calmed down upon hearing his son was gay, he got in contact with a friend from the ministry, Davis Tice.  His son, Anthony, was two years ahead of Draco, also in Slytherin, and one of the most attractive people he had ever seen aside from Weasley.  They dated during Draco's fifth year and Draco had never been happier until Anthony cheated on him twice.

He had worked very hard to convince himself that his random acts of sexual activity had nothing to do with Anthony.  It was nice to finally embody some quality of being a Malfoy that was genuine other than his hair, eyes, and skin.  Malfoys were detached and didn't really care about anyone.  His father had been the same way and now Draco was going down the same road.

"I'm turning into my father," he mumbled, turning away from Goyle.

"I think that's going a little far."

"No, it isn't.  It's true.  I'm turning into my father."

"Just because you won't admit you're starting to fall for Weasley?"

"I can't turn into my father, Greg.  I despise him.  If things keep going at this rate, I'll be starting my own clan of Death Eaters and trying to take over Voldemort."

"You're over-exaggerating again, Draco.  Gods, sometimes you can really be annoying."

"Why am I so taken with him?"

"Weasley?"  Draco nodded.  "You're actually going to talk about your thing for Weasley with me?"

"No.  I want to analyze why I have a thing for Weasley.  It's not like you're hearing anything new.  You know more about me than I do."

"Well, I'd say the thing with Weasley is that he's attractive and you used to be friends so he obviously had traits about him that you like.  I don't know.  Do I look like a psychoanalysis."

Draco gave Goyle an unamused look.

"Speculate later.  We have Potions soon," said Goyle, giving Draco one last glance before going inside the castle.  Draco shortly followed.

~*~

Walking into Potions, Ron noticed that Draco was already sitting at their table talking to Goyle in hushed tones.  Upon seeing Ron enter, Goyle made a little hand motion to him and Draco turned around to meet eyes with Ron.  Snickering in a way that made Ron uncomfortable and led him to believe that Goyle knew about what had been going on with him and Draco, Goyle passed by Ron and gave him an approving sort of look.

"We might be presenting today," said Ron, sitting down next to Draco and determined to keep the subject on Potions.

"No we won't," said Draco.  "I already told Snape I'd prefer to go last.  He won't want us to present until next class."

"Why did you tell him that?" asked Ron, unamused with Malfoy's antics.

"Because I need to talk to you."

"I'm not talking to you about anything that doesn't have to do with Potions."

"You're going to be presenting your potions to me today," said Snape, silencing the chatter between the students and looking pointedly at Neville.  "If I ask questions, they better be answered accurately and without the need to look them up.  We may even test a few.  Keep your voices down as long as you are not presenting.  Mister Potter and Mister Finnigan, what do you say we start with you?"

Ron gave Harry a sympathetic smile as Snape stalked across the room, his robes billowing angrily behind him.  Sinking in his seat, Ron folded his arms across his chest, determined to ignore Draco for the period.  It didn't go so well.  Less than five minutes after Snape had demanded Harry and Seamus to present, Draco decided he couldn't stay silent.

"Where have you been?"

"Here, there, and everywhere, Malfoy, except for with you, that is."

"Why have you been sending back my letters?"

"Because I don't want them.  Stop sending them.  I pity Amadeus."

"You're supposed to read them, Weasley."

"No, thank you, Malfoy.  I don't fancy reading about how you're angry with me for walking out on you.  Nor do I want to read about how you despise me and my poor, pathetic family.  Also, I don't want to read about how I'm insignificant and get no recognition from anyone.  You always do like to remind me that I'm lucky to be getting a piece of your arse."

"How do you know that I didn't proclaim undying love for you in one of those letters?"

"Because Draco Malfoy doesn't understand what love means.  He thinks it's okay to fuck around with a person's heart."

Draco scowled.  Change a few of the words and that had been very close to what he had said to Anthony.

"Don't talk about things you don't understand, Weasel."

"I understand, Malfoy.  I understand perfectly.  I was just a hole.  Go find yourself a new one.  You're attractive.  I'm sure it won't be hard to find a willing hole and a heart to break."

"Don't fool yourself, Weasley," seethed Draco before he could stop himself and from the corner of his eye, Draco could swear that oaf, Goyle, was shaking his head at him.  "You'll be back at my door in a manner of weeks begging for me to take you back.  It's happened before.  No one is ever going to give you half the attention that I do.  Without me, you're just back in Potter's shadow."

"I'd rather be in Harry's shadow than in your bed."

Draco slammed his fists down on the table earning him a nasty glare from Snape.  For the rest of the period, Draco ran over the things he hated about Weasley in his head but none of them seemed to hold up.  They were very childish reasons, after all, things that his father had taught him to hate.  There was their financial situation, which Draco always knew was a bad excuse because Weasley couldn't help there were so many people in his family.  There was the fact he laughed at his name, but Draco was sure if it wasn't his own name, he'd probably snigger at it, too.  Who named their child Draco?  Draco wanted to hex the next lover he had who called him a dragon.  Then there was the fact he was Potter's friend, which seemed like it was jealousy.  When all of his reasons gave way, the only thing that was left strongly resembled jealousy.

Glancing over at Ron, Draco felt a sinking feeling in his stomach.  This was what he did to the first real friend he ever had.  He had used him and tossed him aside in the same manner Anthony had done to himself in more cruel words.  Ron had been there for him and this was how Draco repaid him.  He was turning into his pathetic, slave of a father who craved so much power he became a puppet.  Was Draco no better?  Was he just the same?  He couldn't turn into the man Lucius was.

Ron busied himself until the last minute of Potions when Snape dismissed them.  Ignoring Goyle, Draco followed Ron out of the classroom where he had met up with the mudblood and Potty.  Leaning against the wall, Draco blocked Weasley's way and smirked.

"We need to talk, Weasley."

"Leave him alone, Malfoy," sneered Potter as Granger hiked her bag higher on her shoulder in an act that resembled a threat of injury with her books.

"I wasn't talking to you, Potter.  This is between your precious little Weasel and myself."

"I don't want to talk to you, Malfoy," said Ron, irritated.

"Sod off, Malfoy."

"Suck my cock, Potter."  Draco turned to Ron and smirked.  "Then again -"

"I'll talk to you," said Ron, his eyes growing wide.  "When?"

"Now."

"Okay.  Come on."  Ron took off down the hall and Draco turned to give Potter his nastiest smirk.

"I always get what I want, Potter."

He followed in the direction Ron had gone and Hermione's brows furrowed as she tugged on Harry's arm.

"What was that all about?" she asked.

"I couldn't begin to fathom," replied Harry.

**Am well aware that does not follow with Order of the ****Phoenix****.  Sorry.**

**Anyone know where any good post-OotP Ron/Draco stuff is.   I'm dying to hear more about Weasley is our King.**

**There will be 17 chapters to this story.  Expect nine sometime soon.  I have Wednesday and Thursday off.**


	9. Truce

**Penname:  Page of Cups**

**Email:  AndromedanPrincess@hotmail.com**

**Title:  Everything Changes**

**Pairing:  Ron Weasley/Draco Malfoy**

**Rating:  R**

**Summary:  **

**Caution:  Boy on boy love.  If you came this far and it is not your cup of tea, go make cocoa.**

**Disclaimer: This story contains characters, locations, and other random things created and/or owned by J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury Publishing, Scholastic, Inc., etc.**** Since no money is being made, no infringement is intended. Section 102(b) of the U.S. Copyright Act states that copyright protection does not extend to ideas, procedures, concepts, principles or discoveries, but the actual words used to express those things. I know. I'm researching my copyright abilities.******

**_Chapter Nine:  Truce_**

Ron didn't know where he was heading or what he was heading to as he stalked down the corridor, waiting for Malfoy to catch up and hoping that Hermione wasn't smart enough to figure out what Malfoy was about to allude to.  The last thing he needed was for Hermione to concoct the clever (and unfortunately true) theory that it was Ron who had sucked Draco's cock.  They knew he had been seeing a Slytherin, after all, even if they did think it was a girl.  Vaguely wondering if Malfoy was even following him at all, Ron took a turn and stopped to find himself standing in the very familiar prefects corridor.  Funny how if he let his feet walk that this is where he ended up.

"You could have waited for me, Weasel," said Draco, slightly pink in the face from the effort it must have taken to catch up.

"You could have not almost told my friends about our very compromising situation."

"I wasn't going to tell them," said Draco, sneering.  "Why would I want anyone to know that I've been buggering you for a month?  Anyhow, Potter and Granger didn't even get it.  Now, I really think we should take this someplace more private before Goyle sees us again."

"Goyle's seen us?" said Ron, looking horrified.

"He saw you leave my room our last night together."

"You make it sound like it was a very long time ago."

"When you're avoiding me, it seems like it is."

"Has Goyle - er - told anyone?"

"Goyle won't tell a soul."

"And you believe him?"

"I have his word and I trust him.  That's all you need to know.  If it were Crabbe who knew, then you could start sweating.  However, someone like Crabbe or even worse could come by and since you brought us here of all places, I suggest we take this discussion to my room.  Honestly, what would you say if Peeves were to float by and hear this?"

"Tell him that you'd speak ill of him to the Bloody Baron."

"Fair enough, but honestly, Weasley.  Some people just can't be bribed like that."

Glancing at the door to the Head Boy room, Ron nodded.  He really didn't want anyone to hear them discussing their sexual past and even though the last place he wanted to be talking about such things was the Head Boy room, it looked like there was no where else to turn to.  Cursing his feet for being so careless, Ron followed Draco, who muttered some constellation (or maybe it was a star) and followed Draco through the door.

"Doesn't this bring back memories," said Draco, cheekily, as the door shut behind Ron and he casually undid his cloak to drape it over the back of an armchair.

"Yes, it really does.  Especially one where I walked out on you.  Don't be so daft, Malfoy.  I was in here three days ago.  Stop talking about this like I've been fighting with you for weeks.  Well, I have been fighting with you for weeks but that wasn't in the context I meant."

"Weasley, I'm hurt.  Don't you miss me?"

"Not at all.  Why did you want to talk to me?  What was so important that you had to mess with me to get me here?"

Draco did have a reason for talking to Weasley, didn't he?  Even though he had said it in jest to Weasel, Draco felt he did miss him immensely.  Then there was the fact of the feelings that Goyle was foolish enough to call love.  Perhaps it was mostly the grief from treating a former friend in such a manner that was undeserved.  He had been more mature about this boy when he was a child of three.  The big one, though, was the fact he was acting just like Anthony and turning into his father.  He needed to make things right with Weasley.  He didn't love him because Draco didn't love people but there were feelings and Weasley couldn't hate him.

"I wanted to talk to you because I don't like the way things ended with us."

"Neither do I but it happened and unless you want to use a time turner and kill me before I walk out on you, you're just going to have to accept that."

"Weasley, don't you get it?  I don't want it to be over."

"I must have been a really great hole."

"Weasley -"

"Isn't that what you said I was, Malfoy?  Just another hole?  Well, this hole has had enough with you and your games.  Take them somewhere else, Malfoy."

"Fuck you, Weasel.  I'm trying to say something here so stop fucking insulting me."

"You never stop for a moment with me.  It's always my mother's weight, or my father's salary, or my choice of friends.  Honestly, who would want to be friends with Scar-head and the Mudblood, right?  They're just so caring and nice it's probably like an infection to you.  Or maybe you want to bring up the fact I'm insignificant and no one remembers my existence.  There's always the fact I was stupid enough to let you fuck me when I knew how you were.  Here's one you haven't used.  Why don't you pull out the cards about my poor, dead sister, and my Death Eater brother?"

Draco gaped at Ron, his face flushed to the roots of his hair in a violent, purplish red color that Draco had never seen him turn.  The way it clashed with his hair was horrible and Draco didn't want Weasley to look like this ever again, especially not at his own prodding.

"Stop sending my letters back," was all Draco could say.

"Stop insulting my friends!  Stop insulting my family!  Stop taking every cheap shot you can possibly come up with!  Leave me alone, Malfoy.  I've had enough of you and I don't want to see you again.  I actually cared for you.  I actually thought that just because we were once friends that you could still be a nice person."

"I can be a nice person," said Draco, abandoning all reason.  Ron snorted what he thought of that comment.  "I mean it.  Look, Weasley, you need to calm down."  Taking a deep breath, Draco tried to collect his thoughts.  "I can see that I clearly do not bring the best out in you.  Go back to Gryffindor or somewhere and just calm down.  When you can think straight - if you want to talk this out, come by sometime before midnight.  The password is Betelgeuse.  We can work through this, Weasley."

Ron didn't reply, staring blankly at Draco as a frown tug on his lips.  The purplish red color was still vibrant on his skin making his freckles look a sickly orange.  Trying not to wince at the sight, Draco cracked open the door to the Head Boy room and stood by the doorway, looking expectantly at Ron.

"By midnight.  Otherwise I'm going to assume you want nothing to do with me ever again."

Cutting past him without so much as another word, Ron left the Head Boy room and Draco leaned against the door.  His head rolled back to smack against the wood and he left out a low, exhausted sigh.  What had he done and if Weasley did come back, what was he going to do?  Even Neville Longbottom could see that a relationship between Ron and Draco would never work out.  Deciding titles would have to go away and that would have to be enough for Ron if he should ever again ask, Draco began to ponder what Goyle had said before.

Going by what Goyle said, he already was in a relationship with Weasley.  Granted, it was a twisted one that involved a lot of brutal sex, but it was a relationship all the same.  It went against all the Draco Malfoy laws to be in another relationship.  Come to think of it, it went against all of the Draco Malfoy laws to be fancying Weasley.  So this was what happened when your childhood best friend grows up to be bloody gorgeous.  You fall in love with them.

Draco didn't even bother to chastise himself for thinking of the word love in association with Weasley.  It was futile to tell himself otherwise.  He had somehow managed to fall in love with Weasley and even though he could never admit it and it would be something he only said in his sleep (if what Goyle said was true), but it would always be there.  If Weasel didn't come by tonight, he was going to have to slap himself silly.

~*~

After calling the fat lady words that Ron would never dare to utter within a fifty kilometer radius of his mother, she finally opened the portrait hole and allowed him to enter.  He was sick of her telling him not to fight because he would fight if he bloody well wanted to and as he scrambled in the common room, he dumped the contents of his bag out onto a table and began to work.

"How did things go with Malfoy?" asked Hermione.

"Fine," Ron snapped as he started finishing a Charms essay.

"What did he say to you?" asked Harry.

"What is your obsession with Malfoy?  Why do you always have to know every single thing he's ever said to me?  He didn't say much, actually, since you so desperately need to know.  I did most of the talking.  You can go tell your diary that now while you draw little hearts around yours and Malfoy's names."

"Ron," said Harry.

"Leave him alone, Harry," said Hermione, laying a hand on his shoulder.

Hermione gave Ron an odd look before pulling Harry away and they went back to their own work.  A few hours later, Ron refused to leave his assignments and so Harry and Hermione went to dinner alone, making sure to bring food back for him.  Since Harry didn't have Quidditch that night as they had beaten Hufflepuff the week before and were taking a break until after Christmas, they returned to the common room together and cautiously wandered over to Ron.  He was now working on Divination, doing it the right way, and trying to complete it in full.

"We brought you some dinner," said Harry, offering the food to him.  Ron didn't even look up as he scribbled an equation down on the parchment, still as angry as he was when he first entered Gryffindor Tower.

"Er - Ron, are you okay?" said Hermione, sitting down next to him.

"Yeah.  You're all purple," said Harry, not bothering to hide his grimace.  "You look really bad, Ron."

"Fuck off," he said through gritted teeth.

"Ron, you do realize you're actually finishing homework," said Harry.

"Yes.  Do you realize I'm actually finishing homework?"

"Is this a trick question?"

"I think he wants you to leave him alone," said Hermione, softly.

"Well look who caught up."

"Ronald Weasley, do not talk to me like that," said Hermione, crossly, taking his homework away from him.  "I have had it with your attitude these past few weeks.  I want to know what is up with you and I want to know now.  Don't give me that nothing bullshit again!  You have been nasty and rude to us since the beginning of the term and we've taken it in stride but I will not put up with it anymore."

"You want to know what's wrong with me?" screamed Ron, standing up from where he was seated to knock his chair over in the process.  "Where should I begin?  My sister died less than two years ago.  My brother is a Death Eater.  My dad is a joke at the ministry.  My mum is having a hard time coping with Ginny and I've had to keep this thing about Percy from her because she can't even take losing Ginny.  On top of all that, I am now known as the dead girl's brother in addition to Harry Potter's friend.  You know, the tall kid with the red hair.  What's his name?  Oh, that's right.  Tom.  That's not to mention my marks are suffering because of all this.  Then, last month, someone finally noticed me and I've been seeing him ever since only to find out that all he wanted me for was sex.  I shouldn't have expected more from a Slytherin but I tend to get weak when someone looks _at me instead of _past_ me.  So, there you go, Hermione.  Take your fucking pick."_

"I didn't know, Ron," she said, softly.

"You never bothered to ask.  All you ever ask is if there's something wrong.  You should bloody well know what's wrong after all these years.  If you don't, maybe you haven't been as good of a friend as I thought.  None of you ever ask what you can do to help."

"What can we do, Ron?" Hermione practically pleaded.  Across from her, Harry was staring at Ron as if he had just sprouted wings.

"I don't know, Hermione," he said, feeling too drained of energy to think.  "Right now I need to be away from you.  I need to collect my thoughts.  I'm sorry for yelling at you."

"It's okay, Ron.  Really.  Take a walk or something.  Take as long as you need."

As a peace offering, Ron gave Hermione a hug and a kiss on the cheek before giving Harry a quick hug and left the room.  Harry turned to Hermione, his mouth hanging open, and said, "Did Ron say he was seeing a him?"

Hermione's eyes grew wide and her mouth fell open, looking to the portrait hole that Ron had just gone out of.

~*~

Now in the hallway roughly around the time when those with Quidditch practice would be coming back and curfew was about to take effect, Ron was left with three options.  He could wander the halls and possibly run into Filch, Snape, or Peeves.  Then there was option number two of returning to the common room he had just left.  Finally, there was hidden option number three.  He could go to the Head Boy room and talk through whatever he was supposed to talk through with Draco.

Fifteen minutes later, Ron found himself in an empty prefects corridor and approaching the Head Boy room.

"Betelgeuse," said Ron, smiling appreciatively as the lock clicked to signal it was open.  Turning the handle, Ron slid into the room and softly let it click shut behind him.  He wandered into the familiar room, looking around for Draco.  The bathroom door was slightly ajar and the lights were out so Ron discounted there.  The bed was empty and then Ron found the top of a tell tale head of blond hair peeking over the back of an armchair.

Walking around to the front of the chair, Ron couldn't help but smile.  Draco was curled up in a ball, his knees pressed to his chest.  A bottle green blanket was wrapped around his body and his head was slightly tilted back against the chair.  He was fast asleep.  He had combed his hair down and it fell just above his shoulders.

Unable to bring himself to wake him, Ron took the chair opposite Draco and sat down.  He picked a book sitting on the table between the chairs.  It was a Potions text and Ron briefly admired the binding and thickness of the crisp pages before setting it back to the table.  Ron's textbooks never looked like that.  Then again, Ron's textbooks had probably come to him after they had four or five previous owners.

Sitting across from Draco like this, it was hard to be angry with him.  Ron felt bad for exploding at Hermione but he often did things this way.  If something was bothering him, Ron bottled it up inside until it pushed him so far he exploded.  He really needed to do something about that but he was exploding at everyone today.  First it had been Draco when, in retrospect, he seemed to sincerely want to work things out.  Then it had been Hermione and Harry, who only ever honestly wanted to help.

"Weasley?" came a soft voice and Ron jerked his head to look into Draco's eyes.

"Hey, Malfoy."

"What time is it?"

Ron snickered.  "Way before midnight."

"How long have you been here?"

"Long enough.  You were asleep."

"You should've woken me up."

"No.  I like you when you're asleep.  You don't say much."

"I didn't think you'd come."

"Neither did I."

"Why the sudden change of heart?"

"I got into a row with Hermione and this was the only place I could think of going besides the common room, my dorm, and detention."

"I'm glad you came."

"So now that you're up," said Ron, choosing to ignore Draco's statement, "what was it that you think we should talk through?"

"Er - Weasley, I don't want to lose you.  I can't tell you where we stand and I can't give you a title.  I don't know myself.  All I know is I like what I have with you, and I'm not just talking about the sex.  I'd really like to keep something going between us."

"Why didn't you just tell me that you didn't know?" said Ron, sounding slightly annoyed.

"I don't know.  My first instincts are to make people angry with me.  You aren't just a hole.  I really do notice you."

"That's nice to know," said Ron, devoid of emotion.

"I want to kiss you right now but I feel like you'd mistake my intentions and I just don't have the energy to fight with you tonight."

"Do you have the energy for something else?" said Ron, wriggling his eyebrows.

"Weasley," said Draco, appreciatively.  "And here I thought you would mistake my intentions if I kissed you."

"Discontinue referring to me as your hole and I'll be more than pleased to accommodate you."

Ron stood from his chair and crossed over to where Draco was still seated.  Pulling the blanket away to reveal Draco in only a pair of sweatpants, which hung low on his waist, Ron said, "That makes things easier."

Cupping Draco's cheek, Ron lowed his body into Draco's lap and leaned forward to capture his lips.  His palm lay flat against Draco's chest and he could feel the pulse start to speed up beneath his fingertips.  Running his tongue over the length of Draco's bottom lip, Ron then slid his tongue into Draco's mouth.  He lightly nipped at the bottom lip with his teeth and then proceeded to kiss him fully on the mouth.

Kissing his way down Draco's chin and neck, Ron wrapped his arm around Draco's body to feel the way his shoulder blades shifted as Draco moved in the chair.  Gently gliding across Draco's torso with his tongue, Ron could already feel his erection poking him in the stomach.  Draco's fingers were in his hair as he breached the band of his sweatpants and Ron slipped his index finger under the band to gently pull them down.

"Ron," moaned Draco, shifting his hips.

Ron tried very hard not to bite Draco before he paused, his eyes going wide.  Draco didn't seem to notice the slip, only that Ron had discontinued action and his eyelids slowly opened to reveal big, grey eyes.  Reaching for Draco's hand, something Ron never did, he wrapped their fingers together and went back to what he had been doing.

Draco had his fingers twined in Ron's hair as his sweatpants were removed and he felt Ron's lips encircle the head of his cock.  Soft whimpers of Ron's name slipped from his mouth as Ron worked to bring him to a climax, but Draco refused for it to be over yet.  Ron was still fully clothed as Draco commanded him to get on the bed.

That night was the first time Ron had been in control the entire time, the first time he had taken instead of being taken.  After their release, Draco lay on his back, staring at the ceiling and trying to catch his breath as Ron rolled out of bed.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"Getting dressed," said Ron, looking through the discarded robes for his trousers.

"You know, Weasley, you could stay tonight if you wanted to."

Ron's newly discovered pants fell from his fingers and hit the floor.

"What?"

"You could stay if you wanted to."

"But people will notice if I don't come back all night."

"So what?" he said.  "I'd - er - like it if you'd stay."

"Yeah," said Ron, walking back over to Draco's bed and pulling the sheets back to crawl underneath.  After a few moments, Draco shifted over to Ron and grabbed Ron's arm to pull it around him.  "Are you forcing me to hold you, Malfoy?"

"Yes," he said, yawning.

"Okay."  Ron pulled Draco to him, unaccustomed to being in the back end of spooning.  He glanced at the back of Draco's head before leaning forward to place a kiss on his cheek.

"I remember," said Draco.

"What?"

"Child care and poor Sulyn Donnely."

"Who was Sulyn Donnely?"

"The black-haired girl who watched us.  She always had to break up all the fights we got into."

"_We got into?  I never got into fights.  That was all you."_

"Yes, but you were the one who sparked them.  I was always saving your arse.  Crabbe would pick on you and I bit him.  Do you know how long it took me to get that foul taste out of my mouth?"

"No."

"Neither do I.  I was three.  I probably didn't notice a difference."

Ron snickered.

"You also killed spiders for me and kicked my brothers in the shin."

"It was the only body part I was big enough to reach," said Draco.

"You were my hero."

"Shut up, Weasley.  You don't have to make fun of me."

"I wasn't making fun of you."

"We made a great pair, didn't we?"

"Yeah," said Ron, forlorn.  "We did."

"Shame about what happened with my father.  We could have ruled this school."

"What did happen with your father?"

"I was punished. It was no big deal."

"I had been worried about you.  When your father came to pick you up.  Then Sulyn told me that you weren't coming back anymore.  I lost my best friend."

"You weren't the only one."

"I thought we were going to be friends when we came to Hogwarts.  I couldn't wait.  Mum looked really sad when I told her.  Once I got to school, I understood why."

"I didn't remember," said Draco.

"I know."

"Still, it is a shame.  You, Potter, and I could have dominated this place."

"Harry, too?"

"Well, just because I don't like him doesn't mean he wouldn't have been a valuable asset to our group.  Actually, I don't know who I like and who I don't like.  I recently discovered I've turned into a cross between my father and Anthony Tice.  I'm working on reforming that."

"Anthony Tice?  Wasn't he in Fred and George's year?  Slytherin?"

"He was two years ahead of us."

"Yeah.  I heard about him from the twins and Lee Jordan.  Real player.  Is that what you were talking about?"  Draco slightly nodded after a moment of hesitation.  "Did you know him or something?"

"Kind of.  I saw him in the common room and at Quidditch."

"Fred and George told me he dated someone in our year.  Cheated on him all the time and all but killed him when they broke up."

Draco nodded.  "Yeah.  That was me."

Not knowing what else to say, Ron said, "I'm sorry.  I didn't know.  I wouldn't have mentioned it if I had."

"Don't worry about it," said Draco.  "If I didn't want people to know, I wouldn't have mentioned his name."

"Was that really you?"

"Yes, but the beating when we broke up wasn't as bad as you made it sound.  I got a few hits in myself and he barely came off looking better.  I was fine a few days later."

"That I'm glad to hear."

"Weasley?"

"Yeah, Draco?"

Draco seemed stunned.

"You said my name."

"You said mine earlier.  I'm repaying the favor."

"I said your name?"

"Yeah.  Um - during - you know . . ."

"Oh.  Well, uh, I like it.  When you say my name, that is.  I don't like my name.  It's kind of stupid.  For one, every girl calls me Drakie or Drake and I hate it.  Second, the people who don't use Drakie or Drake use some sort of serpent or dragon pet name."

"Not a big fan of those, either?"

"No," he said, flatly.  "I think my father did this to spite me.  He doesn't like his name, either.  He used to say it made him sound like a pouf.  Now, I couldn't care less what he thinks."

"I promise not to call you Drake, Drakie, or any sort of clever serpent or dragon name."

"Thank you."

"For us, Draco practically is a nickname.  I usually call you Malfoy."

"I'd prefer Draco.  Separates me from him."

"Honestly, I prefer Ron."

"Separating from your family, too?"

"Yes."

"All right, Ron.  I think I can try to arrange that.  May as well after so savagely calling you my hole."

"Thank you.  Now what were you going to say before we began this discussion on names?"

"I was going to say that I was glad you stayed."

"I am, too."

"Ron," said Draco, trying the name out on his tongue.

"What?"

"Nothing."

No more than five minutes later, Draco could hear Ron's breathing even out and light snores coming from his direction.  He didn't know what was going on here but this was better than the fighting.  Draco figured that as long as he kept his mouth shut about the love thing, they just might be okay.  Calling him by his first name should be enough, anyway.

Closing his eyes, Draco found that sleep came quickly when in Ron's arms.

**Okay.  So this wasn't out as soon as I anticipated.  I'm trying.  Really.**

**Once again, written before I read OotP.  Sorry for inconsistencies.**

**May have mentioned before but am now advertising…**

**Need a beta for a story I'm working on.  I'm currently writing chapter 15 and there should be about seven to eight more.  I'd like two or three betas, and all of them need to have the time for it.  While not my longest story, it's definitely my most involved.  I need dedicated readers to give me detailed feedback on mechanics and story line.  As I'm getting on in the story, there are things I need to push myself through. **

**It's a Draco/Ron with boy!Blaise/Harry as a minor pairing.  The story is more focused on the plot than any pairings.  It will be rated R.  For information on plot or any other questions, you may email me at AndromedanPrincess@hotmail.com.**


	10. Don't You Know How to Knock?

**Penname:  Page of Cups**

**Email:  AndromedanPrincess@hotmail.com**

**Title:  Everything Changes**

**Pairing:  Draco Malfoy/Ron Weasley**

**Rating:  R**

**Summary:  No, he doesn't know how to knock.  Especially not on his own dormitory.**

****

**_Chapter Ten:  "Don't You Know How to Knock?"_**

When Ron awoke the next morning, it was with feelings of confusion and then realization.  He began to stir, slowly opening his eyes, and his first thought was to where he could possibly be.  Where the familiar red velvet hangings from his four poster bed?  Where was Seamus's voice, usually louder than anyone else in the entire dormitory, practically screaming for Ron to get his lazy arse out of bed?  Harry should be prodding him awake by now.  What finally prompted things into making sense came a split second later when he noticed Draco laying in his arms.  His skin looked incredibly pale, a soft milky sort of white, next to Ron's freckled skin.  The morning sun streaming in through the window painted wan rays on the two bodies, completely stripped with only a thin, green sheet to shield them.  Draco's hair softly spilled across his pillow and, for a moment, Ron was able to forget all the bad things they had gone through to get to this point.

Brushing his palm over Draco's shoulder, Ron softly pressed his lips to the exposed flesh.

"I was wondering when you were going to wake up," said Draco, his voice so low it was almost in a whisper.

"How long have you been awake?"

"About ten minutes.  We have to get up soon if we want to get to breakfast on time."

"It's barely light outside.  We have plenty of time."

"If you go to breakfast having just rolled out of bed."

"Er - I do that."

"I don't.  Perfection takes time, you know."

"I think you look perfect right now."

"Yes, well, as much as I'd like to go to class completely nude, I don't think McGonagall would allow it.  Dumbledore might find it amusing, though.  Merlin knows that man finds humor in almost every situation."

"I didn't mean it like that," said Ron.  "Enough people have seen you this way as is.  I'm not about to go sharing you with others any more.  You're mine now."

"No one's seen me like this.  I don't just let anyone spend the night.  Sleeping makes one look so unattractive."

"I think you think about your appearance too much."

"I think you don't think about you appearance enough."

"Well at least we each have something to bring this thing we have."

"What?  I'm the vain little twit and you're the carefree, laid-back one?"

"If you'd prefer to be the vain little twit," said Ron, smirking.

"I would, and this vain little twit has to get out of bed and shower.  I need time to get my hair just perfect.  Do we have any classes together today?"

"We had Potions yesterday and - no.  I have Charms, History of Magic, and Herbology.  I can come back here tonight, though, if you'd like."

"All right," said Draco, kissing Ron one more time before climbing out of bed, suddenly very aware of the fact he was naked, to take a shower.  "See you tonight, then."

"See you tonight," said Ron, lying on his side and watching as Draco disappeared behind the bathroom door.  Climbing out of bed, he dug through the discarded robes until he found his own and dressed quickly, wanting to be out of there before Draco came out of the shower.  He ran his fingers through his hair, trying to look somewhat presentable in yesterday's robes, before slipping into the prefects corridor and heading for Gryffindor tower.

No one was in the common room when Ron finally persuaded the nosy fat lady to let him into Gryffindor without knowing where he had spent the night.  In fact, Ron highly doubted if many of the Gryffindors would even be up at this ungodly hour that Draco began his day.  Making his way to the showers, Ron found that he had been very close.  Typically, the showers were packed or empty because he was so late, but only Seamus was there, brushing his teeth.

Spitting out a large glob of foam and rinsing his mouth, Seamus said, "Where were you all night?  We noticed you didn't come back after that walk Hermione sent you on."

"I fell asleep."

"In whose bed?"

"No one.  I was in the Astronomy Tower."

"No, you weren't.  I was up there with Parvati.  Besides, those robes weren't slept in.  They're definitely worn but not slept in.  I have an eye for the difference."

"It's none of your business, Seamus," said Ron, walking over to the sink and splashing water on his face.

"Man, you reek of sex, Weasley."

"Thank you for that observation, Seamus."

"Just pointing it out.  I'm going to get dressed.  I'd grab a shower if I were you before Harry or Neville comes down here.  You know how Harry hogs all the hot water."

"Right," said Ron, watching the door as Seamus left.

~*~

"You never came back last night," Harry observed, sitting down at the Gryffindor table and causing Hermione to glance up from her finished Charms essay, which she was reviewing on e final time, to look at Ron.

"He never came back?"

"I fell asleep," said Ron.  "It wasn't that big of a deal."

"In someone's bed," said Seamus, smirking.  Ron threw a piece of toast at him, scowling.

"Where did you sleep?" asked Hermione.  "Why didn't you come back?  Were you that terribly angry with me?"

"I wasn't terribly angry with you.  I fell asleep."

"He said he was in the Astronomy Tower but I know he's lying because I was there and he definitely wasn't.  His robes weren't slept in either," added Seamus.  "I can tell.  Believe me, I know the difference."

"Where were you all night?" asked Harry.

"I went to a friend's," said Ron.

"Could your answer be any vaguer?"

"Keep out of it, Seamus," said Ron.

"Er - your Slytherin friend?" asked Harry.

"You have a Slytherin friend?" asked Seamus.  Ron glared at him, but he didn't seem to notice.

"Yes, I have a Slytherin friend, and yes, that's where I went."

"I thought you two were fighting.  Did you make up?" asked Harry.

"Yes, we made up.  I had no where else to go and so I went there."

"Er - we meant to talk to you about that," said Hermione, rolling up her parchment.  "Please don't think up impertinent, but - Harry?"

"What are you trying to get at?" asked Ron.

"You said it was a he," said Harry.

"I don't get it," said Seamus.

"Don't you have friends to talk to?" snapped Ron.

"No."

"What's your point?" said Ron, looking back to Harry.  "My Slytherin friend is a he."

"But you've been telling us it was a she," said Hermione.

"And you were - er - seeing each other," said Harry.

"What's your point?"

"You've been shagging a guy?" asked Seamus, looking impressed.  "Here I thought I was the only bisexual Gryffindor in our year."

"You're bisexual?" asked Harry, staring at Seamus.

"Who said I was bisexual?" said Ron.

"You've been shagging a guy, Ron.  That kind of makes you attracted to the same sex," said Seamus.  "I didn't know you were into guys."

Ron remained still, staring dumbly at his breakfast.

"I hadn't even realized it," said Ron.  "I mean, I knew he was a guy but I hadn't realized that would make me gay, or bisexual, or whatever I am.  I just knew I cared about him and I found him attractive.  He finds me attractive.  I never stopped to think about it."

"That's the way to be," said Seamus, raising his goblet in what seemed to be a toast before downing his pumpkin juice all at once.  "Don't think about it, Ron.  Just go with the feeling."

"Is that a problem?" asked Ron, oscillating his glances between Hermione and Harry with Seamus occasionally thrown in there.

"Not a problem," said Harry.  "You just took us by surprise.  Apparently we took you by surprise as well.  You really didn't realize?"

"Not at all."

"I support you in the new discovery," said Seamus.  "Congratulations, Ron.  Welcome to the elite."

"That - er - goes for me, too.  Though I don't have the same enthusiasm as Seamus does," said Harry.  "I don't want to screw anything good up for you by making you think about it."

"Does that mean you spent the night in Slytherin?" said Seamus, looking sick.  "Was it cold down there?  How did you get into without Malfoy noticing?  Does that mean you know the password?  We could break in and pull pranks."

"Don't be ridiculous, Seamus," said Hermione.  "You still shouldn't have spent the night out of the common room, Ron.  What would have happened if you had gotten caught."

"Hermione, he was inside," said Harry.  "It wasn't like he was in the corridors.  What would happen?  Snape walk in and find Ron in a compromising position with one of his precious Slytherins?"

"Harry, you know what I mean," said Hermione, growing irritated.

"You know what, I don't need this right now," said Ron.  "You can fight over me and what I do with my life up to your heart's content but I don't want to hear it.  I just had the best night of my life and you aren't taking that away from me."

"You tell 'em, Ron!" said Seamus.

"Oh shut up, Seamus," chorused Harry, Ron, and Hermione.

"I'll see you in Charms," said Ron.  "I have to get my books from Gryffindor anyway."

Standing from the Gryffindor table, Ron left his spot with food still half-piled onto his plate.

"Do you get the feeling Ron is going to start hating us soon?" wondered Harry, watching Ron as he left the Hall, practically knocking over Malfoy on the way out.

"I have good intentions," said Hermione, sadly.  "I really do.  I love Ron."

"You reckon we should go after him?" said Harry, watching as Malfoy, still staring at the doors to the Hall where Ron almost ran him over, joined the Slytherin table.

"Let him go.  He wants his space."

~*~

"Did you see what just happened?" asked Draco, sitting next to Goyle.

"Weasley almost killed you flying out of here."

"Do you think he was upset?"

"How should I know?  You're in love with him.  Can't you tell?"

"I am not in love with him," spit Draco, sneering.  His gaze fell back to the doors.

"Honestly, Draco, how you've come so far with him is a miracle to me.  If you want to go after him, go after him."

"What?  I don't want to go after him."

"Then I'm ordering you.  It's no wonder you get into so many fights with Weasley.  Go after him, Draco."

"I haven't even eaten!"

"You know you want to know what happened to him.  Do you really want him upset already after you spent the night together?"

"How do you know about that?"

"Saw him leaving your room this morning."

"What, do you stalk the prefects corridor?  That's twice you've seen him leave my room."

"I enjoy the atmosphere there."

"Piss off."

"Go, Draco.  You know you want to."

"You," grumbled Draco, standing from his seat and not even bothering to finish his train of thought.  He left the Great Hall and headed for the Grand Staircase.

"If I were Weasley, where would I flee to?  If I were Weasley . . . I'd kill myself," pondered Draco, groaning.  "Gryffindor common room.  I should go to the Gryffindor common room.  I don't even know where the Gryffindor common room is!"

Turning off onto the fourth floor, Draco started wandering down the hall.  He could ask someone if they had seen Ron, but that would look strange.  There was always the possibility of wandering until he was graduated.  The Gryffindor ghost, Nearly Headless Nick, floated past him gazing at Draco with a great deal of distrust.  The world was clearly out to get him.

"Where the fuck did you go, Weasley?" Draco muttered.

"Are you looking for Ronald Weasley, dear?" said a voice, and Draco turned around until he saw the portrait of a plump witch in a purple gown waving at him.  "Over here, darling."

"Er -" said Draco, feeling foolish talking to a portrait.  "Yes, I am."

"Violet just told me moments ago that Daphne saw him up on the sixth floor.  He seemed to be heading for the Gryffindor common room."

"I don't know where the Gryffindor common room is," said Draco, glancing around for anyone who could be overhearing this conversation.

"Well, Caroline guards the entrance, of course," said the witch.

"Who's Caroline?"

"Honestly, don't you know anything?"

"Can't you just tell what me what floor it's on?"

"Well, seventh, dear.  Why didn't you just ask that in the first place?"

Without bothering to thank her as Draco didn't think her attitude merited thanks, he started off for the staircase again.  Making his way up to the top floor, Draco started wandering the halls with the thought in mind that at least Weasley would have to be by this way.  Turning a corner, he stopped abruptly to see Ron leaning against a wall, his head rolled back and his eyes shut.  The sight caused Draco to still in his footing but he mentally willed himself to move again, slowly making his way toward Ron.  Checking to see if the hallway was clear, Draco ran his tongue over the exposed flesh of Ron's throat before placing his lips there.  As he stepped back, Ron's wide eyes were on him.

"What are you doing?" asked Ron.

"Weasley, aren't you glad to see me?"

"Just go away, Malfoy," he sighed.

The misery in Ron's voice caused words to die in Draco's throat, catching him off guard.

"What?  Why?  What happened, Weasel?"

"Nothing.  Go - away."

"What did I do?"

"Nothing yet.  That's why I want you to go away.  Before you say something to ruin what happened last night."

Draco's expression softened as understanding settled in.  He had asked him to spend the night.  Didn't Weasley realize what that meant to Draco?

"Weasley . . ."

"Go, Malfoy.  Don't taint this for me.  At least give me that one moment."

"Come on, Weasley - Ron," said Draco, holding out his hand to Ron.

"What are you doing?"  Ron was staring down at Draco's hand as if it were one of Fred and George's trick sweets, about the explode the moment he accepted it.

"Come with me.  Let's ditch class and just go.  We'll spend the day together.  Alone.  We can go to Gryffindor or something.  That way I won't have to run around aimlessly the next time I need to track you down."

"Are you serious?" said Ron, frowning.

"Yes, I'm serious.  Last night meant a lot to me.  Come with me and you can tell me all about what happened with Potter.  I'm assuming it was Potter."

"My temper is pushed very easily."

"You've always been like that, Ron.  It's endearing."

Reluctantly, Ron nodded and grabbed Draco's wrist to pull him in the direction of the Gryffindor common room.

"You were looking for me?" said Ron as they walked down the hall.

"Yes, and I had no idea where your ruddy common room was.  I felt like a fool."

"Take notes, then, Malfoy.  You may have to find me again."

"I don't doubt it."

"I see you've found him," said one of the four witches that had crammed themselves into the fat lady's portrait.  The other witches were whispering behind their hands and giggling whenever Draco's eyes landed on them.

"What?" said Ron, grinning as he looked to Draco.

"Nothing," grunted Draco.

"He's a Slytherin," said the fat lady, who Draco presumed to be Caroline.

"He's with me and don't you dare tell a student about this," said Ron, gravely.  "I'd have half a mind to come back down here and accidentally spill tea on you and that's nothing compared to what Draco would do."

"He's right," said Draco.

"Well," said the fat lady, annoyed.

"It's time for our breakfast!" cried Violet, the fat lady's friend as she moved out of her portrait.  The two other witches started fanning themselves, following Violet.  The fat lady was about ready to leave as well until Ron's words stopped her.

"Wait!  You can't go.  You've still got to let me in the common room."

"Aren't you supposed to be in class?" she asked, sternly.

"Would you just let me in?"

"You haven't given me the password."

"Good one, Weasley," muttered Draco.

"Er - right," said Ron, blushing.  "Rilian."

The fat lady gave a disgruntled sort of humph, opening up to allow Ron and Draco's entrance.  Ron glanced into the common room before motioning for Draco to come in.

"Everyone's in class," he said.

"So this is the Gryffindor common room," said Draco, looking around the warm and friendly room.  "I prefer Slytherin."

"You would," said Ron.  "You want to stay down here or should we go up to the dorm?"

"Dorm," answered Draco, looking at the setting before the fireplace with something akin to disgust.

Ron led him up the winding staircase that led to the seventh year boys' dormitory and he nudged open the door, peering in to make sure no one had stayed behind before allowing Draco access.  Shutting the door behind him, Ron turned around to find Draco inspecting the place.

"Oh my gods, I can't believe I'm in Harry Potter's room," Draco said in the most girly, sarcastic voice he could possibly make.  Ron snickered, crossing the room and wrapping his arms around Draco's waist.

"You're in Neville Longbottom's room, too."

"How do you live with these people?" asked Draco in disgust.

"How do you live with Crabbe and Goyle?"

"Leave Goyle alone.  He's the one who made me come after you.  I wasn't going to because I didn't think you'd want me to."

"Goyle knows about us?"

"Er - yeah.  He figured it out on his own."

"He's that bright?"

"He's a lot smarter than you'd think.  So - where's your bed?"

"Always trying to get me in bed, aren't you, Malfoy?"

"I have a hard time resisting the temptation you possess."

Pulling Draco over to his bed, Ron collapsed onto the mattress with Draco falling on top of him.  Pressing his lips to Ron's, Draco ran his tongue along the length of Ron's bottom lip before rolling over to lie next to him.

"You look tired," Draco observed.

"I am.  You wake up at an hour I didn't know existed."

"So sleep."

"I can't.  We're supposed to spend the day together."

"We will be.  We'll be together tonight, too.  Sleep.  If I hear anyone coming, I'll hide under your bed."

Ron grinned up at him, rolled over in bed, and sighed as Draco's arms came around his chest.

~*~

"Remind me why we're here?"

"Because he may be upset."

"But why did we have to come?"

"Because we're all his friends and we have to see if he's okay."

Seamus grunted something unintelligible as he turned the knob to the dormitory.  Walking in, he paused in the doorway, staring at the two bodies wrapped around each other and fast sleep.  Gaping, he turned around and headed back into the hallway, shutting the door behind him.

"Well?" said Harry.

"He's in there all right," said Seamus.  "At least I think so.  I may have been imagining it."

"Imagining what?"

"His Slytherin lover in bed with him."

"In bed?" said Harry.  "They were shagging?"

"No.  In bed.  Fully clothed and sleeping."

"Who was it?"

"Er - I think I must have imagined it."

"Then go back in and find out," said Dean, who was getting sick of standing in the hallway.

"I don't think that's a good idea," said Neville.  "What if you aren't imagining it?"

"Then at least we'll know," said Harry.  "Grow some balls and get your arse in there."

Seamus gritted his teeth at Harry, but turned around and opened the door.  The four boys filed into the room, and stared across the room at Ron's bed, which he hadn't even bothered to pull the curtains around.

"I don't think he was expecting us until later," said Dean.

"I told you it was a bad idea coming in here."

"Shut up, Neville," hissed Dean.

"You see it, too?" said Seamus.

"That's _Malfoy_," said Harry, grimacing.  "What's Malfoy doing here?"

"I think that's obvious," muttered Seamus as Harry headed for the bed.  Neville left out a frightened squeak.

Ron was sprawled out on his stomach on one side, fast sleep.  Draco was beside him, lying on his back with one arm thrown over Ron's back.  His lips were slightly parted and not looking at all like the Slytherin Harry hated so much and Ron claimed to hate.  Harry wanted to kill him.

Roughly grabbing Draco's shoulder, Harry shook him with as much force as he could exude without waking up Ron in the process.  Ron mumbled something but didn't wake.  Draco was a different story.  His eyes shot open and he wrapped his fingers around Harry's wrist in a death grip. 

"Don't _do_ that," sneered Draco, sitting up in bed.  "I swear, if you touch me again, you're going to loose that hand, Potter."  Releasing the grip on Harry's hand, Draco removed his other hand from Ron's back and perched himself on the side of Ron's bed.

"What is going on here?" hissed Harry.

"What are you doing here, Potter?  Don't you know how to knock?"

"On my own dormitory?  I have every right to be here.  What are you doing here?"

"Well, I was sleeping before I was so rudely interrupted."  Draco brought his hands up to his head, smoothing back his hair.  "Would anyone happen to have a mirror?"  The other Gryffindors just stared at him.  "I suppose I'm asking the wrong people.  Stupid question."

"I want to know what's going on here," said Harry.

Ron shifted in his sleep, leaving out a soft sort of whisper as he did so.

"Now you're going to wake him, Potter."

"I think we should wake him.  I want to know what this is all about."

"I'll tell you whatever you want to know, but let him sleep.  He's tired.  Haven't you done enough damage?  Honestly, I can see why he loses his temper with you and Granger so often."

"Explain, Malfoy, and do it fast."

"You're going to have to give me something to work with, Potter.  I don't know what he's told you and I don't know exactly what you want to know."

Shifting again, Ron rolled onto his back and seemed to tense up.

"Open your eyes, Weasley, I know you're awake," said Draco.

Slowly lifting his eyelids to reveal his bright blue eyes, Ron glanced nervously up at Draco and then to Harry.

"Harry.  Hi."  That was when Seamus snickered from the corner and for the first time, both Draco and Ron noticed the presence of the other three boys.  Ron left out a shriek and fell off his bed.

Peering over the side, Draco said, "Are you okay down there, Weasel?"  Ron paid him no attention.

"Seamus.  Dean.  Neville.  Oh shit, Draco."

"Now that we're all acquainted . . ." said Draco, not bothering to finish his sentence.

"What's going on, Ron?"

"Haven't you figured it out yet?" said Draco.  "Are you really that daft or do you just want us to come out and say it?  I'm his boyfriend, Potter.  Get a bloody clue."

"You're my boyfriend?" said Ron, raising his eyebrows and climbing back onto the bed.

"You didn't even know?" said Harry.

"He said we were enemies!"

"I thought enemies don't shag, Weasley."

"You've been having sex with Malfoy?" said Harry, looking sick.

"Lucky bugger," Seamus muttered from across the room, receiving five nasty glares.

"I told you about this, Harry," said Ron.  "Don't act like it's come as a big surprise."

"You told him?" said Draco.

"You didn't tell me!" said Harry.

"Yes, I did."

"In all fairness," interrupted Seamus, "he did tell you.  He said so just at breakfast.  Malfoy's a Slytherin and clearly a guy.  That kind of makes him meet the requirements."

"But Malfoy?"

"Yes, Potter.  The sooner you accept the fact your darling Weasley is mine, the sooner we can all get on with our lives."

"For future reference, Draco, can you tell me what you consider out status before you tell everyone else," said Ron.

"We'll talk about it later, Ron."

"Right."

"I can't take this right now," said Harry, holding his head.  He didn't look at either Draco or Ron as he left the dormitory.

"Should I go after him?" said Ron.

"I think he wants to be left alone," said Seamus.  "We'll just be going now.  We have classes and all.  Er - we'll bring you back your assignments and let Professor Binns know you aren't feeling well."

Ushering Dean and Neville out of the dormitory, Seamus shut the shut the door behind them.

"So," said Draco, turning to Ron, "that went well."


	11. Three Sides to Every Situation

**Penname:  Page of Cups**

**Email:  AndromedanPrincess@hotmail.com**

**Title:  Everything Changes**

**Pairing:  Ron Weasley/Draco Malfoy**

**Rating: R**

**Summary:  Harry isn't happy and Ron wants to make his own mistakes.**

****

**_Chapter Eleven:  Three Sides to Every Situation_**

"You do know you're going to have to go back there sometime."

Shifting his gaze from the fire to Draco, Ron sighed.

"No, I don't.  I could just move in here."

"No, you will not," snapped Draco.  "This is my room and from what I've seen in Gryffindor, you aren't the neatest living partner I could acquire.  I like things neat and tidy."

"That had better be the only reason you plan on sending me back to Gryffindor to be assaulted."

"I'm not sending you back to Gryffindor to be assaulted.  I'm just reminding you that you will have to go back there eventually.  Finnigan seems to be taking it well, and Potter'll come around.  Don't worry yourself about him.  Why's he so important anyway?"

"Because he's my best friend, Draco.  I care about how he feels."

"I can't imagine why."

"Do you care about how I feel?"

"Er -" said Draco, shifting his attention away from Ron and onto some highly interesting point on the wall.  "This isn't about us.  Don't bring the complicated relationship we have into this."

"We have to talk about that eventually, but I just wanted to prove to you that a friend's opinion matters.  I guess I was the wrong person to use as an example.  What about Goyle?  You'd care about what he thought, wouldn't you?"

"That's different."

"No, it isn't.  Harry's my best mate, Draco, and I can't imagine life without him there.  We had this wicked bad fight in fourth year and I was miserable the entire time.  Most of it I spent trying to come up with ways to apologize for being a git.  The hardest thing about this is that this isn't like fourth year.  I can't apologize for being with you.  I am with you, aren't I?"

"You heard me tell Potter that you are."

"I thought you didn't believe in relationships."

"I don't.  Not as of this moment, but as much as I don't like it, I'm out of control on this one.  I couldn't bear for you to only be a one night stand and now we're in a relationship.  The fact of the matter was that I just avoided titling it.  I don't believe that they work but I'm expanding my mind and giving you the chance to prove me wrong."

"That's a tall order.  I'll try not to disappoint."

"Good.  Don't worry about Potter.  If he refuses to forgive you for being with someone like me, then he wasn't a very good friend in the first place.  Granted, I didn't turn out to be the best friend, either, but at least I came back.  It took me ten years, but I'm trying."

Pressing his lips tightly together, Ron nodded and Draco got the distinct impression that he had only vaguely heard what was said if he even heard at all.  He stared at Ron sitting in the chair opposite him, his long legs tucked under his body and his arms hugging his torso.

"Ron," said Draco, frowning at the sad and distant look on Ron's face.  He sighed at the fact Ron didn't seem to hear him and he stood from his own chair, crossing over to where Ron was seated.  Kneeling before him, Draco gently pulled Ron's arms away from his torso and slipped his hands into Ron's, winding their fingers.  "Fuck Potter, Ron.  I mean it.  If he only likes you when you're stuffed in his shadow, then he isn't worth your time.  You shouldn't be following someone like him around anyway.  You're more than that and you know it.  I know I haven't done much for you to trust me or to choose me over that scar-faced shit, but we were once friends.  You reminded me of that.  I took ten years to get over my demons but I'm here now.  If all it takes is for you to date one of your former friends for Potter to turn his tail and abandon you, then fuck him."

"It still hurts."

Draco stared at Ron solemnly and nodded.

"You should go back to Gryffindor Tower.  Talk to him and find out where he stands.  You haven't even said a word to him since this afternoon.  For all you know, Potter was in shock and is over it by now.  You could be worrying yourself for nothing."

"You actually want me to go back to my dorm and straighten things out with Harry?"

"If it will wipe that frown off your face, yes.  Potter is stealing all the attention that you're supposed to reserve for me."

"I see how it is," said Ron, trying to smile, but the fight was a failed one and tears started to immediately prick at the corner of his eyes.  He tried to force them back, not wanting Draco to see him cry or show any sign of weakness.  It was nothing short of a miracle that Draco was admitting to something more than just shagging and he didn't want to scare him away.

"What's bothering you?  It's something besides Potter.  What is it?"

"How do you know that?" asked Ron.

"I don't know.  I can't just tell.  I feel that you're more upset than you're letting on.  Does that make any sense?"

"Yes," said Ron, meekly.  "I just - did you know you were a guy?"

"What kind of question is that?" asked Draco, laughing.

"I never even thought about it before.  I just knew that I cared about you and I like being with you.  The thought never even occurred to me that I should be feeling that way about a girl instead of a guy."

"The wizarding world doesn't make a big deal out of homosexuality.  However, I hear it's a big deal to muggles."

"Really?  Muggles think it's a big deal?  How do you know about muggles?"

"Father thinks it's important that I learn what the socially unacceptable things are in the muggle world to make for easier prey when I join the Death Eaters, silly, ignorant bugger.  Thinks himself very perceptive but doesn't have enough sense to realize his own son loathes him.  It's almost sad, isn't it?"

"You loathe your father?"

"You'd loathe your father, too, if he wanted you to be a permanent puppet.  I played the part long enough, straight up through Anthony.  If a cheating boyfriend and broken ribs is what I get for trusting my father and depending on what he thinks is best for me, then I don't even want to know him.  After I graduate, I'm out of here.  I don't know where I'm going, but I'm getting away from him, and I hope the Aurors get him."

"That's rather harsh, don't you think?"

"I don't care," said Draco, picking at one of the loose threads of Ron's too-short, shabby robes.  "You need new clothes."

"Thanks for pointing that out, Draco," said Ron.  "You always do know how to charm me."

"I'm sorry," he said, bowing his head.  "I didn't mean it like that.  It didn't even occur to me what I was saying and to whom until after it was out of my mouth.  Doesn't change the fact of the matter, though.  You do need new robes.  Christmas is in two weeks.  Perhaps I should get you some."

"Christmas.  I hadn't even thought of that.  I've been so preoccupied hating myself for being pathetic enough to let you shag me."

"You've been hating yourself?"  Draco sounded slightly hurt and Ron looked down at him, wondering what the blond was wondering not for the first time since this entire messy ordeal had begun.

"I knew you were going to end up hurting me," said Ron, focusing on Draco's fingers playing with the loose threads and he felt his cheeks turning warm, ashamed of the state of his clothing.  "I hadn't realized I was so starved for attention that I would even accept it from you in the form of sex.  You know, it's no small wonder that Harry's disgusted with me.  Over the past few years, I haven't exactly been quiet on my views about you and your sex life."

"And just what are you views on my sex life?"

"I think you sleep around far too much."

"Only one person warms my bed these days," said Draco, grinning but refusing to meet Ron's eyes as if he didn't want to acknowledge who it was he was admitting this to.  "You're different to me.  Don't hate yourself on account of something I've done.  You're more to me than the others were."

"I know."

"What do you want to do for Christmas?"

"What?"

"Well, I imagine we'll be together for Christmas so what do you want to do?"

"I have to stay here.  Mum and Dad's orders, not that you could come home with me anyway.  I don't know how my parents would take that."

"I'm staying here, too, so that works out well.  I refuse to go home to my father but as where your parents are keeping you here with the intent that Hogwarts is one of the safest places to be, my father is keeping me here to keep me out of his way.  Last time I stayed here was second year because he was busying planning that Chamber of Secrets thing that I didn't even know about until last year.  My father doesn't tell me a thing.  Voldemort keeps him in the dark and he keeps me in the dark.  It's an endless cycle."

"Harry and Hermione are staying, too.  Harry has nowhere to go and Hermione is staying for me, or at least that's what they were going to do.  Who knows what they have planned now that they despise me for being with you.  If you'd like, you can come spend the morning with me just after breakfast.  We can exchange gifts then.  Almost all of Gryffindor is going to be gone anyway."

"Okay," said Draco, pulling Ron down by the front of his robes to press his lips firmly against Ron's and lingering long enough for the flesh to tingle.  "Go back to Gryffindor, talk to Potter, and get things straightened out.  I don't want to see you moping around the next time we're in a room together."

"Thanks," said Ron, rising to his feet and Draco stood up beside him.  Their hands were still joined and Ron was suddenly very aware of it and how intimate the gesture really was, probably more so than sex.  It indicated there was something more that went beyond the raw lust and Ron tried to fight a blush creeping into his cheeks while cursing his skin for giving away his emotions so easily.  "Draco?"

"Yes?" said Draco, his voice painfully small almost as if he expected Ron to say the words he was thinking.

"Nothing.  I'll see you tomorrow."

"Okay."

Draco walked Ron to the door and they exchanged one last kiss before Ron glanced out the door to make sure the prefects corridor was empty.  Finding himself in the clear, he said goodbye and slowly drew his fingers out of Draco's, missing the touch as he headed in the direction of Gryffindor.  Hanging in the doorway, Draco watched Ron until he turned the corner and was out of sight.  Despite the fact he was gone, Draco remained, his fingers itching.  He wanted to go after him, throw that bloody 'L' word at him until he was blue in the face, but Draco forced himself to stay back.  Ron had felt it, too.  It wasn't something he could explain, but Draco couldn't shake the feeling that he was in tune with Ron's emotions, thoughts, and though he had always been able to read Weasley's face like a book, it was something deeper.

They had gotten themselves in deep this time.  If only one had done the unthinkable, developed real emotions for the other, things could be managed.  Keeping them both in check when they had actually had the audacity to go and do something foolish like fall in love was going to be more difficult.  Draco was almost relieved Ron hadn't admitted it.   He couldn't lie to Ron but he couldn't tell him the truth, either.  Things had just gotten very complicated and Draco briefly wondered why he could be so tuned to Ron as he closed the door and collapsed in his bed.

~*~

That had truly been scary.  As Ron sat there in the Head Boy room, staring into the fire and listening to Malfoy's voice ramble about unimportant things, he could think of nothing else than Harry and what he was doing at the moment.  Though it was painfully obvious and would have been even to someone like Parkinson or Crabbe and Goyle (here, Ron felt guilty knowing that Goyle was supporting his relationship with Draco), it had still caught him off-guard with the way Draco had read him.  It wasn't thinking, observing that Ron was hurting, it was simply knowing, feeling it every bit as much as Ron was, and Draco seemed like he really cared.  It was hard for Ron to believe that only a few days ago Draco had refused to give what they had a title and today he was holding Ron's hand, telling him that whether he liked it or not, they were in a relationship.

Of course things had to be buggered up, though.  That was simply how the life of Ron Weasley read.  If he were to sit down and write an autobiography, the title would have to be 'Right Place at the Wrong Time.'  Just as things had gotten to a point with Draco where their childhood friendship was returning and a romantic relationship was forming, Harry had to discover it, and there went the best friend that Ron treasured.  As the fates would have it, he apparently couldn't have a lover and a best friend.  It was asking too much.

That was what made it so stupid of Ron to have almost let the words slip out of his mouth.  Draco had just come around, and though things were happening at a very rapid pace considering that it was only four days ago that Draco had refused to title them, there was no way that Ron could count on Draco to have changed that completely.  When and how it had happened was still a mystery, but the truth of the matter was that it had happened regardless, and Ron had almost told Draco.  Thousands of horror scenes flickered through his mind at the thought of Draco hearing that Ron loved him, all of which ended badly, and some of which ended with Ron in the infirmary, a vital body part missing or horribly disfigured.

Walking up to the portrait of the fat lady, he said, "Rilian," and was pleased that she was too sleepy to argue with him about being out late even though it was just before curfew.  Crawling through the portrait hole, Ron stilled in his steps as he entered the Gryffindor common room.  The sight that greeted him was nothing remotely close to a pleasant one and he sighed upon seeing five heads snap up at his entrance, ten eyes focused on him as he struggled with where he wanted to go.  Deciding there was no escape and he would have to confront it eventually, Ron dragged himself over to the table Hermione, Harry, Dean, Neville, and Seamus were seated at.

"Where have you been?" asked Harry, softly.

"I suppose they told you," said Ron, looking to Hermione.  She nodded.

"Were you with him?" asked Harry.

"Yeah, I was," said Ron, feeling dejected and worn out.  Harry bit his lower lip and nodded.

"I think we need to talk privately."

"I do, too."

"Good luck, Ron," said Seamus as Harry stood from the table.  "I support you completely."

"Thanks, Seamus," said Ron, actually meaning it for the first time in a long while.  So what if it was Seamus?  Despite all the complaining Ron did about him, he was still a good friend, and it was nice to have the support of someone, especially someone as close as Seamus was, when it felt like the entire world was against him.

Following Harry out of the common room, Ron squirmed as he imagined what they must have been saying about him for the hours he had been in absence.  Hermione knew now, too, and Ron could only imagine what Harry and Seamus must have said they'd seen.  They never were very good at accurately describing situations, and Ron could only hope they didn't make it sound worse than what it really was.  Preparing himself for what felt like his millionth fight this week, Ron closed the door to the dormitory behind him and looked up to see Harry seated on the side of his bed and staring directly at Ron.

"Why didn't you tell me?" was the first thing to come out of Harry's mouth.

"I - don't know.  I guess I was embarrassed."

"I'm supposed to be your best friend and you don't tell me anything anymore.  That hurts, Ron.  I'm sorry I've been preoccupied but I do try to make time for you."

"I know that, Harry.  My entire life doesn't revolve around you.  I'm not dating Draco just because of something you did or didn't do."

"I know that.  I want to know why you thought you had to keep something like this from me be it Malfoy or not.  When Hermione asked if you were seeing someone, I laughed because I was sure that you would tell us if you had been.  I was under the impression that we trusted each other with everything.  Why wouldn't you tell me?"

"Because I was humiliated, Harry," said Ron, dropped his head back to hit the door.  "You'd be embarrassed too if you felt so neglected that you responded to every pathetic glance that was thrown in your general direction."

"What happened, Ron?  How did it happen?  I mean, this is Malfoy we're talking about."

"I wouldn't even know where to start."

"The beginning is usually the best."

Swallowing, Ron nodded.

"If you want to start at the beginning, I'd probably have to go back all the way to child care when I first met him.  That's how this all starts.  I told you that Draco and I were once best friends and he's my oldest friend.  He was my first friend.  Ever since coming to Hogwarts, part of me has been watching him, waiting for that part of him that I was once friends with to emerge from the cold exterior he buried it beneath.  It never happened.  He was starting to get worse and now I know why.  It's not my place to tell you what's happened to him, I don't even know everything, but I know some of the reasons why he is the way he is, and it hurts to see him like that.

"He was my friend, Harry.  I trusted him before I ever trusted anyone other than maybe my parents and Charlie.  I knew how he could be and I wanted the Draco I knew to come back.  I held onto that even though I thought it was hopeless.  Recently, you know how Seamus kept saying Draco seemed to be checking me out.  We all thought it was a joke.  Turns out, he really was.  When we had that detention in the trophy room last month, he kissed me.  We've been shagging for a month.  I like the attention.  I like that he notices me.  And when you caught us today, you stormed out, and I thought you hated me, Draco did everything that a friend and a boyfriend is supposed to do.  He held me and started talking about unimportant shit that I wasn't even listening to just so that he could either try and distract me or give me the comfort of his presence.  He doesn't acknowledge what he's doing in words, but I know why he does it.  I just feel it."

"How can you trust him?" interrupted Harry, darkly.  "For all you know, Malfoy is just using you.  He could be waiting to get his dark mark, writing his father and telling him all about how he's got you right where he wants you.  For all you know, Malfoy could be waiting to turn you over to Voldemort."

"Don't say that, Harry," said Ron, softly.

"It's true, Ron.  You don't know.  It's impossible to know who you can and can't trust anymore and I don't trust Malfoy.  He's never given us any reason to trust him and he could be filling you with imaginary stories without you knowing.  There's no substantial evidence that he can give you -"

"I have faith in him, Harry.  Anyone could be against us.  That's just the thing.  It is impossible to know who to trust, but I'm not going to cut off contact with everyone around me just because they could possibly be working for Voldemort.  I trust him."

"I think it's a bad decision, Ron, but that's just my opinion."

"Exactly.  You think it's a bad decision and I respect your opinion, but it's my decision to make, and I choose to believe him.  I need to believe him.  If it turns out that he's been misleading me the entire time, everything's over for me, and my faith is going to be shattered.  I won't be able to believe in anyone anymore.  You don't understand.  He's been a part of me for almost my entire life.  I need to believe that under the hardness, he's still the same Draco that killed spiders for me in child care.  If I lose that, I lose the faith I have that there's an innate sense of goodness in this world.  I can't believe my childhood friend is gone."

"For your sake, I sincerely hope you're right."

"You aren't the only one."

"I'm sorry about the way I reacted.  I want to keep you as a friend but I don't trust him, Ron.  I'm not going to make friends with him and I honestly doubt that I'll ever be able to look at him as a person worth my loyalty.  I can't say that I like this, I really can't say that I condone this, but you're my friend and I have no other options than to accept that it's your decision to make."

"It is my decision, Harry."

"I know.  I just don't want to see you get hurt by a git like Malfoy."

"Hey.  That git is my boyfriend."

"How serious are things?  I mean, I know you said you've just been shagging and I guess when I heard he was your boyfriend, it was the first time you heard he was your boyfriend, but - you said you wanted something more when you were still in your fight.  And the way you get when you start talking about him - I just . . . oh gods, Ron, things are getting so complicated."

"You're telling me."

"What I mean to say is . . . do you love him?"

Ron hesitated, pushing himself away from the door and crossing the room to sit next to Harry on his bed.  Hanging his head, Ron laced his fingers together and let his clasped hands sit in his lap as he pondered his answer.  A clump of copper hair dropped over his forehead, just barely fringing over the top of his eyes, allowing the bright blue to stare up at Harry with a startling contrast.

"Yeah," he said after a long time.  "I do.  I love him, and I almost told him so just before he made me come back here to make nice with you.  That would not have gone over well.  He freaked out enough as is when I wanted a title.  I don't know what he'd do if he knew I was in love with him.  Probably think I was nutters, that much is for sure."

"I suppose that you don't believe he loves you, then."

"No."

"You deserve more than that, Ron."

"I know, but I can't bring myself to leave him.  I love him too much.  I want to be with him even if he doesn't want to be with me.  I know.  I'm crazy, sad, and pathetic.  You don't need to tell me."

"You aren't crazy, sad, or pathetic.  You're just in love.  I still don't like this."

"If it's a mistake, it's a mistake I have to learn from on my own."

"I love you, Ron.  Even if he turns out to be what I expect him to be, know that there is some good.  I'm still here and so is Hermione, your family . . . we all love you, even if Malfoy doesn't."

"I love you, too, but you know it's not the same."

"I know."

"Harry, is Hermione very angry about this?"

"Actually, she didn't look too surprised when we told her.  In fact, I think she was more surprised that we had found out.  Then again, we shouldn't be too terribly shocked if she does.  Hermione has a way of figuring out everything without us noticing.  If you're feeling bad, though, you should go talk to her.  I'm sorry I walked out and made you think I hated you.  I needed to think."

"It's okay so long as I still have my best friend."

"You're always going to have me," said Harry, grinning.  "There's nothing you could do to lose me.  Granted we're going to get in rows for the rest of our lives, probably really big ones, but we'll work our way through.  We always do."

"Thanks, Harry."

"No problem."

The boys exchanged small smiles before Harry urged Ron out of the room and down into the common room where Seamus, Hermione, Dean, and Neville were all very interested to hear about what had gone down between Harry and Ron up in the dormitory.  Hermione gave Ron a soft smile as he sat down next to her and tried not to look as uncomfortable as he felt.  From the sympathetic look he was receiving from Seamus, it seemed that his attempt was going from trying into failure at a rapid rate.

"Hey, Hermione," said Ron, softly.

"Hi, Ron."

"Harry told me that you heard.  I suppose it was Seamus that told you."

"Not everything is because of me, Ron," said Seamus, rolling his eyes.

"Oh be quiet," said Dean, leering at Seamus.  Neville quickly shook his head.

"What?" said Seamus.  "I'm the only one who is being a good friend here so far.  I'm trying to lighten the mood and make Ron feel like there's less pressure on him.  He deserves that much.  So he's shagging Malfoy?  Big deal.  I'd shag Malfoy, too, if the offer was presented."

"Thanks, Seamus."

"No problem, Ron.  Any time you need me to set one of these fools straight, just seek out my assistance.  I'm always happy to come to the aid of a friend."

"Its okay, Ron," interrupted Hermione.  "I'm not shocked, shaken, or disgusted.  I've never been so close to a - er - bisexual before, if that's what you are, but I'll try to get comfortable with the idea.  My family has always been a little traditional in our views and I know it's accepted here in the wizarding world.  I really will try."

"You don't hate me?"

"Of course not.  Anyway, I had an idea it was Malfoy."

"You had an idea?" said Harry, staring hard at her.  "Why didn't you tell me?  I could have used a fair warning before it got shoved straight into my face."

"Harry, you would have known, too, if you had been paying better attention," said Hermione, crossly.  "Things that are blatantly obvious and staring you in the face often slip under your radar, don't they?  Think about the signs.  He was upset after that detention in the trophy room because of something with Malfoy.  Then, all of a sudden and out of nowhere, he tells us he used to be friends with him.  He was going out at night for weeks, getting letters from that owl, and then he said he was seeing someone the moment they got into their fight.  Malfoy cornered us after Potions and said he needed to talk to Ron.  We both thought it was strange, remember?  It was only yesterday.  We knew it was a Slytherin; we knew it was a him."

"It really was obvious," said Dean.  "How did you miss that, Harry?"

"Harry's a fuckwit," said Hermione, simply.

"The point is," said Harry, sharply, "I've apologized to Ron and I'm trying to be tolerant for the moment.  I can't support it because I don't have faith in it, but that's Ron's decision to make.  Right?"

"Right," agreed Ron, trying to look happier than he felt.  "Thanks for the support."

"Just don't bring Malfoy back to have hot wild sex in our dorm," said Dean.

"Please," added Neville.

"I'm sorry, Ron, but I've been kicked out of the dorm when I have company.  It's only fair that you are refused the right as well," said Seamus, nodding seriously, and this sudden change of attitude made Ron laugh his first genuine laugh since leaving Draco.

"This is going to stay just between us, right?"

"Of course," said Harry.

"It has to," added Neville.

"What were you doing with him the entire time you were gone?" asked Hermione.

"Talking.  He was trying to cheer me up.  Telling me that if Harry hated me, he wasn't worthy to be my friend in the first place.  Convinced me, or more so forced me, to come back here and find out what Harry was really thinking so that I would stop beating myself up if it was nothing.  And he was right.  Draco usually is.  Then there were our Christmas plans."

"Christmas," echoed Hermione.  "The three of us are the only Gryffindors staying, aren't we?"

Ron and Harry nodded.

"I'm going home," said Neville.  "Gran wants me with her over the holiday.  Says she'll feel better knowing I'm under her roof."

"I don't have much of a choice.  Parvati's parents want to meet me," said Seamus.  "Parents.  I don't know what they're thinking but I expect it won't be remotely the same after they meet me.  I find that I form bad first impressions on parents.  It would seem that I come across slutty."

"You are slutty," pointed out Dean.  Seamus seemed to consider this before nodding.

"What are our Christmas plans?" said Hermione.  "Now that you and Malfoy were discussing them, anyway."

"He's staying," said Ron.  "His father wants him here and out of his way at the manor."

"Imagine growing up in that place," said Seamus.

"Draco's childhood wasn't as glamorous as you might think," said Ron.

"Can we expect his company on Christmas?" said Harry.

"You might want to start trying to be civil.  I invited him over for Christmas morning.  It didn't seem right to both be here at Christmas and not spend it with him but I want to spend it with you two as well."

"That's so adorable."

"Shut up, Seamus," said Neville.  Seamus lifted his eyebrows and looked over to Neville with a mixture of surprise and appreciation.

"You will try to be nice to him on Christmas, won't you?" said Ron, looking nervous.

"I'll do my best," promised Harry, "and you know Hermione will, too.  It will most certainly be a day to remember."

**I have no excuse for taking so long to update other than I am lazy.  Six more chapters to come, and then, The Prophecy of Absconditus.  Am still looking for betas, mostly for plot than for punctuation and grammar.  If you're interested, email me at AndromedanPrincess@hotmail.com**


	12. Tristan and Blake

**Penname:  Page of Cups**

**Email:  AndromedanPrincess@hotmail.com**

**Title:  Everything Changes**

**Pairing:  Ron Weasley/Draco Malfoy**

**Rating:  R**

**Summary:  Christmas and here and Ron's gotten Draco an interesting present.**

**Disclaimer: This story contains characters, locations, and other random things created and/or owned by J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury Publishing, Scholastic, Inc., etc.**** Since no money is being made, no infringement is intended. Section 102(b) of the U.S. Copyright Act states that copyright protection does not extend to ideas, procedures, concepts, principles or discoveries, but the actual words used to express those things. I know. I'm researching my copyright abilities.******

**Chapter Twelve:  Tristan and Blake**

Snow was falling from the sky in tiny flakes of white that caused the dark night sky to become illuminated as the wind swept the particles over Hogwarts grounds.  In a dormitory room on the fifth floor of the castle, a light could be seen flickering through the glass like a roaring fire dwindling upon the approach of midnight.  Inside the room, the heavy emerald blankets shrouded two figures naked from the chest up that were clothed only by the sheets where their bodies could not be seen.  Beneath the heavy material, their legs were intertwined and the cloth clung to the slightly damp skin of their legs, one set pale and boyish, and the other strong and freckled.

"Are you okay?" said Draco, finally, after what felt like hours on end of silence, the first thing to be said after their euphoric moans of pleasure died.

"Why do you ask?" replied Ron, wrapping his arm tighter around Draco's back and flexing the fingers of his other hand, which was shoved under his pillow and was starting to go numb.

"You're brooding.  There's no reason to brood.  It's Christmas Eve and it will be Christmas in less than an hour."

"I know that."

Ron shivered and released his grip on Draco long enough to pull the blankets up to his chin, burying Draco in the process.  The top of his head was just barely sticking out at the end, a mass of blond hair fanning out around him like a halo.  Two grey eyes peeked out at him from the darkness and Ron laughed, leaning forward to kiss his forehead.

"Cold?" asked Draco, yanking his arm out of the blankets to lay it on top of the material and bring his head back into the open.

"Very."

"Now will you tell me why you were brooding?"

"I wasn't brooding."

"Shame on you, Weasley.  You shouldn't lie to me on Christmas Eve."

"I would only be lying if I were brooding, which, I can assure you, I was not."

"Liar," accused Draco.  Looking to Ron, he released a heavy sigh upon seeing the small frown lines that were becoming etched into Ron's forehead and the pallor shade his skin was starting to take.  Curling his fingers around Ron's chin, Draco pulled Ron forward to kiss a patch of freckles on his cheek.  "What's bothering you?  Talk to me."

"Nothing.  Just my family.  You don't want to hear about them.  We're just the poor, pathetic, muggle-loving Weasley clan."

"Don't say that, Ron."

"Why not?  It's true," said Ron as if he had just told Draco that Harry was the Seeker on the Gryffindor Quidditch team.  "We're ignored.  Just a family that should have been wiped out a long time ago.  You've said so yourself.  My family is neglected and I'm just Weasley number two thousand and fifty-nine, the most insignificant of all."

"Where is this coming from, Ron?  Don't throw the things I used to say in my face on a night like this."

Ron tried to pull away from Draco, but the blond curled his fingers around Ron's wrists and pulled him forward, the force being gentle but enough to show resistance, and Ron stopped struggling.  He didn't seem to have much in him prepared for the struggle to begin with.  Looking him over and taking him in, Draco found himself examining Ron, and he forced himself to give up.  There wasn't a way he was going to figure out the origin of this by telepathy.

"Hey . . . Ron - come on.  What's wrong?"

"Tomorrow's Christmas," Ron finally answered, resignedly.

"And?"

"I'm stuck here."  He closed his eyes and looked away, allowing Draco to put his arms around him and pull him closer.  Nuzzling his face into the crook of Draco's neck, Ron breathed in deeply to take in Draco's scent, like evergreen trees and the stiff smell of the dungeons.  "Sorry for being a prat."

"You aren't a prat," said Draco.  "What was with the sudden outburst?  One second you're calling yourself insignificant again, which I'd like to go on the record saying that I told you that you were not insignificant, and then you're crumbling."

"It's too much work to fight you when I don't want to," mumbled Ron.  "You're the only good thing I have right now."

"I sincerely hope that isn't true.  What about Potter?"

"He hates you," said Ron, pulling back and snickering.  "He's trying to be civil about it and I told him you're coming by tomorrow to spend Christmas with me but Harry . . . he's a great guy but he's got so much to deal with right now.  He doesn't blame me . . ."

"But he doesn't think I'm good enough for you?"

Slowly, Ron nodded.  "Yeah.  But you're, like, Draco Malfoy," he said, in the same lost, confused tone that Harry was often using these days.  "To be fair, I can't really blame him.  If it weren't for child care, I'd sincerely doubt if I would have caved in to your prowess."

"Thank Merlin for disgruntled house elves who are incapable of caring for three year old children," said Draco.

"Right.  After everything you've done, I don't blame Harry for his views, but it doesn't mean that a distance hasn't grown between us.  He supports me, but he thinks I should be placing my affection in - er - let's just say that there are other people Harry thinks I should be looking at."

"Better people."

"Precisely."

"So, Potter is more of a foe than a friend these days."

"He's a friend; just . . . he's got more to deal with than a best friend like me.  Half the wizarding world is trying to kill him and the other half won't stop whispering about he cries about his dead parents, which he doesn't.  When you're in a position like that, and just barely passing because of all the distractions, you don't need a orientation challenged best friend running around with one of the people you'd consider a possible murderer."

"Potter thinks I'm going to kill him?"

"He thinks you're going to become a Death Eater, and Death Eaters work to hand Harry over to Voldemort.  So, technically, yes.  And if you had asked me two hours before you first kissed me what I thought, I would have agreed with Harry."

"If it will ease your pretty little head, I'll let you in on a few random facts about me.  My father is a Death Eater.  My father wants me to be his marionette for the rest of his life.  He started this practice when I was seven years old.  When I was three years old, you were my best friend, my first friend.  In retrospect, half of the only real friends I've ever had."

"Half?" said Ron, frowning.

"Greg and you.  That makes you half.  Someone at the ministry told my father that there should be a better screening process for the ministry child care center and when my father asked why, he was told that it was wrong for riffraff like your family to be associating with families like mine.  My father was afraid that I'd be influenced by you so he pulled me out and, after realizing that me playing with you when he came to get me was not a new development, he threw me in solitary confinement.  That's what I get for being friends with someone like you."

"Draco -"

"It wasn't the first time it happened, Ron.  My father started acting strange when I was six.  Don't you remember?  I told you about it."

"I remember," Ron said, hardly a whisper.

"The point is, my father taught me to hate Potter, hate mudbloods, and to hate your family, especially your family.  Mudbloods are one thing.  They don't deserve to be around us, but my father says that as long as they behave like proper wizards, they should largely be ignored.  Potter is a consequence of the Dark Lord's fall, and I'm expected to be better than him to show people that just because you have a scar on your head, it doesn't mean that you're special.  But your family?  You're pureblood.  You're supposed to know better.  Mudbloods are separate from us.  Potter is an entire different thing in his own right.  Your family is pureblood and you're in control of how you behave."

"We make your family look bad -" said Ron, softly.

"But I don't believe that anymore," interrupted Draco.  "I had only my father around me from the time I was seven until I came here to Hogwarts.  He chose my friends for me.  He chose my girlfriends for me.  He told me who to take to the Yule Ball, and when he found out I was gay, he chose who I dated.  I was with Anthony because of him.  I believed everything he told me.  I forgot we were friends and when I came here, I hated you.  I was jealous of Potter, I was annoyed by Granger, but I hated you."

Draco paused, clenching his jaw together and refusing to let emotion build too strongly in either his voice or his eyes, though he supposed that was already a lost cause.

"You were supposed to know better.  You were trying to make me look bad," said Draco.  "That was my mentality.  I was supposed to do better than Potter to prove that just because he continues to suck oxygen, it doesn't mean he's worthy of the praise he receives.  I was supposed to beat Granger to prove that it's important to have pure blood.  I was supposed to beat you to be a Malfoy, to uphold my family name.

"He wants me to be just like him."  Draco shook his head.  "He doesn't see that I'm not like him.  I believed him for the longest time and then Anthony . . . my father knew.  He knew Anthony was cheating on me, and when I later told him about it, he told me to stop being such a girl.  The reason I broke up with Anthony had nothing to do with the fact he was seeing other people.  I confronted him about it, tried to get him to stop or at least do something, but he hit me.  He hit me.  That was it for me.  I broke up with him and we got into a fist fight, which I'm convinced he only came off better in because I was in a daze from the first punch.  When my father heard about it, he yelled at me.  He said if I was going to be a faggot, I should learn to live with being kicked around."

Draco's fingers had been playing with a corner of the pillowcase his head lay on, and when he got to this point in the story, his fingers stilled and he chanced looking up at Ron.  There were two extremely thin tear tracks running over the apples of his cheeks, one of which was veering off to the right and dropping on to his pillow, and the other ran to the corner of his mouth, his saliva mixing with the salty fluid.  Reaching out with his thumb, Draco brushed away the tears and gave Ron a soft smile.

"Never cry on account of me, Weasley."

"I love you," said Ron, his voice throaty and sounding painfully tight.

Draco looked down at his pillow once again and bit hard on his tongue, wincing when he felt a tiny drop of blood flow onto his bottom lip.  The taste was just barely there, that coppery, metallic taste that blood has, and Draco stared down at his long, slender fingers.

"My point is," he continued, refusing to acknowledge the slightly pained look on Ron's face, "that I don't want to be like him.  If he were on the light side, I would join the Death Eaters, but he's a Death Eater, and I would never join them for the sole fact that my father is held in their high regard.  Potter can sleep soundly."

"What about your mother?" asked Ron.

"She was around.  It's because of her that I'm not in Durmstrang in the first place.  Father wanted me learning the dark arts there, but my mother didn't want me to go that far away.  She used to be extremely protective of me, but my father . . . well, you know about the drugs.  My father was sick of her arguing with him on how I should be raised, and he started hitting her first, but that got to be messy and hard to cover up, so he started sedating her.  That's what the entire article in the Daily Prophet that you were so kind to mention during one of our rows was about.  She went to her mediwitch for a routine check up and they found it in her blood.  Father hadn't known she was going in.  If he had, he would have made sure she was clean."

"I'm sorry.  And here I'm complaining about my family."

"Why were you upset about your family?  I still don't think I can possibly be the one good thing you have right now.  I envy you for your family."

"Well," said Ron, carefully, "my mum and dad are great.  Nothing like what goes on with your family.  Ever since Ginny died, though - things are weird.  Mum smothers me like she expects me to go next and I can't without her letting me know just how much she loves me.  Dad's working so much at the ministry so he doesn't have to think about it.  I'm worried about him.  I was supposed to go home for Christmas, and I desperately wanted to because I miss my mum, and even if she does smother me, I need her around.  They're going to see my brother Bill now, though, because they didn't see him this summer holiday and they said they wanted me to stay here because there wasn't enough money to take me, which is probably true but is also a secret code for Hogwarts is safer and they think I'll die, too, if I go with.

"That's what things are like without adding Percy to the equation.  I don't know what my mum and dad would do if they knew about Percy."

"What do you mean?  Isn't Percy that uptight brother of yours?"

Nodding solemnly, Ron said, "If you tell anyone, I'll murder you with my own hands.  You understand?"

"I swear to keep my abnormally large mouth shut."

"He's a Death Eater."

"Your brother?  The one with the glasses?  How?"

"I don't know.  I haven't trusted him since some time in my fifth year.  Harry told me I was crazy for thinking of Percy like that because he takes the straight and narrow path, but he sided with Fudge when the issue of Voldemort returning was presented, and it wasn't until after Ginny died . . . I always thought he knew.  He kept telling us we were being ridiculous, thinking that Voldemort was back, but there was something to him that just called out at me.  I knew he was lying.  And then Harry . . . Harry heard his voice, heard him being addressed last year."

"Ah, yes.  The infamous duel."

Growing strangely quiet, Ron nodded.

"My family is falling apart and I hated you so much for mocking them when they're everything to me and it's disappearing."

"I'm sorry for hurting you," said Draco, trailing his index finger across Ron's cheek to connect the freckles with his fingertip.  Wincing at his tone, Draco scrunched up his nose.  "This is pathetic, Weasley.  Look at us.  We're one of those boring couples."

"Nothing about this is something I would define as boring," said Ron, nipping Draco's finger as it ran along his bottom lip, and Ron sucked it into his mouth.

"No, really.  We are.  We used to have all this zest and passion when we'd fight.  Potter and Granger had to physically restrain you from murdering me countless times.  Then, we first started this thing we have, the sex was rough and brutal.  Now we're lying in bed pouring out hearts out and cuddling."

"The fates are cruel."

"We're one of those couples who start out passionate and then as soon as we get a title, we get boring.  The tension dissipates.  Who cares about someone like me and someone like you unless there's rough, brutal sex that results in bruises afterward?"

"We haven't always hated each other," said Ron, shifting his body to straddle Draco's waist causing the boy beneath him to squirm.  "And we still have that drive you're talking about.  I don't understand what you think is missing.  Do you want to kill each other in the corridor again?"

"Not especially."

Draco met Ron's lips as Ron spread out on top of him, parting his lips when Ron's tongue searched for access, and he wrapped his arms around Ron's body to rest his palms just above the curvature of his bum.  Pulling back, Ron placed a solitary kiss at the dip in the center of the collar bone.

"You know where that tension went?"

"Where?" asked Draco, winding his fingers in Ron's coppery fringe and pulling him down for their chests to meet.

"We fuck all that tension out."

Snickering, Draco said, "So that's where it all goes."

"Mmm hmm," said Ron, nodding knowingly.  "Time?"

"Just before midnight," said Draco, checking the clock on a table beside his bed.

"I have to go back."

"What?"

"I told Harry I'd be there in the morning to open gifts.  It's our last Christmas at Hogwarts, Draco."

"It's our first Christmas together."

"I know.  You're coming over just after breakfast, right?"

"Well, yes."

"Then it's okay."

"Fine, but at least stay with me until it's Christmas.  You can go after midnight."

"Do you really think we lost our passion?"

"Not when you put it your way."

"Okay," said Ron, breaking out into a smile and resting his body next to Draco's, cradling the blond into his body.

~*~

"What is this supposed to mean?" asked Ron, stretching out on his bed and looking to Hermione.

"I can't read it from over here, Ron," she said, crossly, and he handed her the paper before rolling his eyes.

Harry had been the first of the trio to wake up and he had barely pulled (literally) Ron out of bed when Hermione showed up with her gifts and the three set out on unwrapping them.  So far, Ron had gotten a new cloak from the twins, something that looked inedible from Hagrid, navy dress robes from Harry, and a replacement copy of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them from Hermione, who was sick of Ron complaining about not having his own copy and writing all over hers and Harry's.  As he got to the last package, a lumpy parcel from his mother, Ron ripped off the attached note and, after reading it, handed it over to Hermione, thoroughly confused.

"What does it say?" asked Harry.

Hermione scanned the note.  "Happy Christmas.  We love you.  Sorry you can't be here with us in Egypt.  That kind of thing.  Wait . . . 'tell him Happy Christmas as well and I hope it fits.  I hope he doesn't mind I used magic.  There was very short notice.'  What's that all about?"

"That's what I'm trying to figure out," said Ron.

"Maybe your mum really cracked," offered Harry.  "Maybe it's Egypt."

"Maybe."  Sighing, Ron held up the attached parcel.  "My psychic Trelawney super Divination powers tell me that this parcel will contain a maroon jumper."

"What makes you say that?" said Hermione.

"Mine's black," said Harry, sounding pleased, and pulling the jumper out of it's wrapping.

"You know," said Ron, tearing the packaging apart and extracting the jumper, which was, indeed, maroon, "I love my mum.  I hate maroon so much, but I'd never have the heart to tell her so.  I don't know why my mum always makes mine maroon.  I don't know if she thinks I look good in the color or she thinks I like the color, but I'd never have the heart to tell her I can't stand it.  She'd be heartbroken, thinking I've hated my jumpers all these years."

"You have," pointed out Harry.

"But that doesn't stop me from wearing them," he replied.  Climbing off the bed, Ron grabbed a pair of worn out jeans with holes in both the knees and grabbed his new jumper.  "I'm going to take a shower and get dressed.  I'll meet you in the common room to go down for breakfast."

"When's Malfoy coming up?" asked Hermione.

"I'm supposed to meet him after breakfast outside the common room entrance.  You will be nice to him, won't you?"

"So long as he's nice to us," said Harry, tersely.  Ron decided not to push it and headed out of the dormitory, craving a warm shower.

~*~

The Gryffindor trio was returning from their Christmas breakfast, which the house elves must have gone all out on and was upsetting Hermione so much at the amount of 'slave labor' that must have taken place that Harry suggested cutting their meal short and taking her back to the common room.  Draco hadn't been in the Great Hall during breakfast and Harry was silently hoping that he wouldn't show up at all today.  He never said it out loud but Ron knew what he must be thinking, and his heart sank, praying that Harry's wish would not come true.  Leaving Draco early that morning had been task in itself and he didn't even want to think about not being with him for the holiday.

His worries were forgotten as the three turned the corner into a hallway leading to the common room.  About halfway down, only a short distance from where the fat lady's portrait hung was Draco Malfoy, leaning back against the wall with his platinum hair hanging in his face and two boxes on the floor beside his feet.

"Malfoy," said Harry, his tone flat and unreadable.  Ron decided it was smarter to ignore him.

"Draco," said Ron, rushing up to him and swatting a piece of hair out of his eyes.  "What's wrong?"

"Why would something be wrong?"

Ron batted at the hair.

"Oh," said Draco, laughing, and he nervously eyed Harry and Hermione who had just joined them.  "Er - It's Christmas.  There's hardly anyone around to see me walking around like this and you like it better down so . . ."

Ron broke out into a grin and reached out to lightly tug on the end of one of the pieces, which fell just above Draco's shoulder.

"It looks good.  So where were you at breakfast?"

"I must have eaten earlier than you did.  I forgot that you don't crawl out of bed until the day's half wasted."

"It's only ten.  I can't help you get up far before the cock crows."

"Was that supposed to be some sort of perverted joke?"

"No, don't be daft, you nymphomaniac."

"I'm a nymphomaniac just because I though you were making a perverted joke?"

"No, you're a nymphomaniac because you've shagged half of Hogwarts."

"It isn't half, but fair enough," said Draco.  "So, Weasley, guess what I got for Christmas this morning?"

"What?  Did you father send you some stationary with the Dark Mark on it?"

"Now that you mention it . . ." said Draco, laughing.  "No, really, I got a Weasley parcel."

"What?"

"A Weasley parcel.  Your brothers or at least I'm presuming it was your brothers practically killed me with Filibuster fireworks.  They went off the moment I opened it up."

"Why did you get a Weasley parcel?"

"I wouldn't know, but I've got a very nice green Weasley jumper," said Draco, tugging on the sleeve on Ron's new maroon one.  "Fits quite well, actually.  Your mother sent me a letter apologizing if it wasn't perfect because she didn't know we were an item until a few days ago."

"My mum sent you a Weasley jumper?" said Ron.  Draco, trying to look stern, nodded.  "Do you like it?"

"I've already sent my gratitude."

"Thank you, Draco."

"Not a problem.  At least we know one of our parents encourages this relationship.  Though, for future reference, would you do me the honor of telling me before you tell your mother?"

"Er - but I didn't tell her.  How did she know?"

"Er - that may have been me," said Harry, sheepishly.  "Your mum wrote me to ask you how you were, and I might have let that slip about - er - you know.  It hadn't occurred to me that you wouldn't have told her about it.  Sorry, Ron."

"S'okay, just . . . could you try not to tell my mother about things like this in the future."

"Yeah," said Harry, shrugging to Hermione.

"As much as I enjoy speculating Weasley jumpers and the fact your mother knows about us, are we going to stand out here all day or do I get invited in?"

"Oh, right!  I forgot."

"That much is obvious," drawled Draco, sneaking a sharp glare at Harry as Ron said the password and they entered the Gryffindor common room.  The room was still as disgustingly chipper as it had been the last time Draco was in here, and he set his boxes on the floor before taking a seat in one of the armchairs only to have Ron squeeze in beside him.

"You're going to crush me," said Draco.

"If I were going to crush you, I would have done it by now, and it wouldn't be because I'm sharing a chair with you."

Harry made a coughing, choking sort of noise and he got up from his chair to go sit at one of the tables where Hermione had seated herself.  From where he was seated, he could hear Malfoy mutter, "Buggered Potter," as Hermione set up the chessboard.  Sneaking a glance over at the couple, he grimaced seeing Ron get up and give Draco a quick kiss and say something about a gift before running up the stairs to the Gryffindor dormitory.

"Why do you treat him like that?" drawled Draco once Ron was gone.

"Who?" said Harry.  "Me?  That's rich coming from someone like you."

"I treat Ron a lot better than you treat him."

"Ron?  What happened to 'Weasel'?"

"Potter, are you his best friend?"

"Of course."

"Then bloody act like it.  It's no secret we don't like each other but I'm keeping my mouth shut because I care about him."

Snorting his obvious disbelief, Harry said, "You care about him?  I've never heard such a blatant lie before in my entire life.  I am acting like a best friend.  You didn't hear me saying anything, did you?  I don't like you, Malfoy.  I'm not spending my Christmas with you.  If Ron wants to, that's his own decision."

"Walking away from him the moment I get here is not being a best friend.  Ron is a trusting person -"

"Obviously," seethed Harry, a pointed glare resting on Draco.

"He doesn't take care of himself.  I keep telling him that he should ditch you for treating him this way."

"That would be convenient, wouldn't it?  Make it so much easier to turn him over to Daddy dearest, wouldn't it?"

"Don't talk about what you don't understand, Potter.  It makes you looks ignorant."

"Let's not fight," interrupted Hermione, her voice soft but clearly breaking through the fight that was starting.  "It's Christmas and Ron's going to be back down here soon.  He's going to get upset if he sees you fighting."

Draco scowled at first Hermione and then Harry before turning around and returning to his hair.  Harry turned back to Hermione, mouthed a thank you, and started setting up his own chess pieces.

"What is Ron thinking?" whispered Harry, sneaking a glance over at Draco, who was staring into the fire and sneering.

"I don't know, Harry, but just let it go.  At least for today," she replied, also staring uneasily at Draco.

"I'm not deaf, you know," said Draco.

Harry and Hermione exchanged glances that were broken by the sound of feet coming down the stairs and Ron came into the common room with a medium-sized bag pulled shut by a drawstring, which he was swinging it by.  His feet stilled as he entered the common room and looked from Harry's scowl to Draco's sneer before landing on Hermione, looking as if she had just been caught breaking curfew by her beloved Professor McGonagall.

"What's going on?" said Ron, nervously.

"Nothing," said Draco, motioning him over.  Ron kept his eyes focused on Hermione and Harry as he walked over to where Draco was seated and he dropped next to him in the armchair again, his body half resting on the chair but mostly seated on Draco's lap.  "Do you want to go first or should I?"

"You," said Ron, setting his bag beside the chair.

"Okay."  Keeping Potter in his sight, who wasn't playing chess but staring at the couple intensely just as Granger was, Draco handed over the first of the boxes, a square one about the size of a Quaffle.  It was incredibly light to Ron as Draco handed it over and he shook it, trying to figure out what it could contain.

"I didn't just break anything, did I?" asked Ron.  Draco stifled a laugh and said no.

Tearing off the paper, Ron opened the box and stared inside.

"Er - Draco . . ."

"I noticed your pajamas were too small so I got you new ones," explained Draco.

"But the box is empty."

"What's your point?"

Ron stared blankly at Draco until a smirk started to curl on Draco's lips and Ron laughed, chucking the empty box at him.

"You are a nymphomaniac."

"You were going to kill me when you started shaking it," said Draco, pinching Ron's waist.  "I had to try very hard not to laugh . . . Ron, stop shifting like that.  You're going to injure certain appendages that are best left unharmed."

"Stop pinching me, then," said Ron, pinching Draco's cheek and leaving a red mark on his pale skin where the forefinger and thumb had been.  "You're freakishly white."

"I blame it on my father."

"You blame a lot on your father."

Draco shrugged, reaching over to grab the second box and grunting as Ron started squirming on his lap again from the constant movement.

"I told you to knock that off," said Draco, laughing.  "Now, don't shake this."

The box was long and narrow and Ron stared at it for a long time before asking, "This isn't some really frightening sex toy, is it?"

"No," said Draco, laughing.  "I didn't even think of buying sex toys for Christmas.  That would have been amusing.  An extensive supply of lube or something.  Then again, it would have been rather selfish of me because it would be a present for me as well."

"Who says I'd use it with you?" said Ron, tearing at the paper.

"You better would have used it with me."

Lifting the lid off the box, Ron gaped and from their spots at the table before a chessboard that wasn't even completely set up, Harry and Hermione struggled to see what it was.

"I promise to use any future sex toys with you," said Ron, letting the box drop as he pulled out his new broomstick.

"It's a Firebolt 500," said Draco.  "The model just came out two weeks ago.  Cost me a fortune but you're worth it."

"Draco -"

"Don't get all sappy on me, Weasley.  I wouldn't know what to do with you."

Seizing Draco's chin with the hand that wasn't holding his broom, Ron pulled him forward to cover Draco's lips.

"Yeah," said Draco once Ron had broke away.  "That is where all the tension goes."

"I can't believe you did this."

"Just don't let me hear you going on about how you can't play Quidditch because of that broom of yours, okay?  Even if you aren't playing for Gryffindor, thanks to captain Potter that better get some use."

"He didn't try out," said Harry.

"Getting defensive there, Potter," drawled Draco.  "Don't let me see you letting that go to waste."

"I won't," promised Ron.  "I hate you!  My gift sucks!"

"I'm sure your gift doesn't suck," said Draco, laughing as Ron carefully put the broom back into it's box, treating it like it were made of glass and was likely to shatter at any moment.  Reluctantly, he pulled open the drawstring of the bag and extended a box to Draco, sighing.  "Get your arse over here, Weasley."

Draco wrapped an arm around Ron's waist and yanked him back into his position in the armchair.  Resting his head on Draco's shoulder, Ron watched in anticipation as Draco meticulously removed the paper, marveling at how he carefully peeled back every piece while Ron just dove in and took what he was looking for.  Opening the box, Draco extracted his gift and stared at it, allowing the box to drop from his fingers.

"A stuffed bear?" said Harry, cocking an eyebrow.

"Shut up, Potter," snapped Draco, turning to look at Ron and gaping.

"What?  It's a stuffed animal and about a million years old.  It's missing an eye."

"I told you to shut up, Potter," snapped Draco.  "Is this . . . Ron, is this what I think it is?"

"Yeah," he said, softly laughing.  "It's Blake."

"How could you possibly say this sucks?"  Draco curled his fingers around the back of Ron's neck and he slowly pulled him down, tilting his head up to kiss Ron and marvel at how just pressing his lips to Ron's could make him feel so . . . genuine.  Ron made him feel like he was finally real, that there was no fabrication to him - and loved.  Ron made him feel so loved, cared for, and Draco hugged the bear to his chest, dropping his chin to rest on it's head and painfully aware that Ron had confessed his love and Draco had changed the subject.  This was so not going the way it was supposed to.

"I don't get it," said Harry and Draco's head snapped up, glaring at him.

"It's a long story," said Ron.  "I'm sure you don't want to hear it."

Draco almost laughed at Potter's face, looking like he definitely did need to hear it.

"I'd like to hear it," said Hermione and Harry, speechless, nodded.

"Well," started Ron, "Blake is my teddy bear that Fred changed into a spider when I was three.  You'd have thought I would be turned off by it thanks to Fred's little trick, but I was so relieved that it was my bear once again after the whole ordeal that I took Blake everywhere with me.  I never left him out of my sight.  You know Draco and I were friends at child care.  Well, he used to carry around this stuffed dragon, Tristan, and when we had to leave to start tutoring . . . you know how kids are.  They think two weeks is a lifetime.  We were afraid we were never going to see each other again so we switched toys.  He took Blake and I took Tristan."

"Do you still have Tristan?" asked Draco, interrupting.  Ron held up a finger, leaned over to his bag, and pulled out a gold and purple stuffed dragon that looked like it had been through hell and back.

"I had my mum send them," said Ron, grinning.  "Thought she'd be really boggled by it at the time, but I guess she knows why I did that now."

"So you switched stuffed animals," prompted Hermione.

"Yeah.  Well, you know, we thought that if I had his dragon and he had my bear, we'd have to see each other again.  Our parents wouldn't just let us keep a friend's toy or give away our own toys.  It was an ingenious idea at the time and I still stand by what we did."

"I agree," said Draco, who had started rubbing his palm over the cloth spikes of the dragon's tail.  "My hands used to be so little.  I remember when Tristan was almost as big as I was."

"And you literally dragged him along by his tail everywhere you went."

"Yeah," said Draco, grinning.

"Anyway," continued Ron, looking from Draco to Hermione and Harry, "we saw each other again but we kept hold to the stuffed animals with the intent of only giving them back when we were forced to.  However, the day Draco left and didn't come back, he brought Blake in and told me his father was acting weird and he didn't want anything bad to happen to my bear.  So, now I had Blake back but he told me to keep Tristan for him just in case.  Now, I'm giving Blake back."

"Is this so that we have to see each other again?" asked Draco, running a hand over the bear's paws.

"That and to remember our friendship.  If it would never have been there, we'd never be together like this."

"Ron, your gift is a trillion times better than mine.  It's perfection."

"I love you," said Ron and Draco froze.

There is was again, this time in front of Potter and Granger, but he choked down the three words so desperately trying to escape his lips.  Instead, he wrapped his arms around Ron's waist and pulled him farther onto his lap before claiming his lips, forcing all that passion he was building by not fighting with Ron.  If he wasn't going to say the words (and in all reality, he couldn't say the words), then he could at least try to show Ron what he meant to him.

"Draco," said Ron, softly, and Draco noticed that Harry and Hermione had turned their backs to them and were speaking in whispers, one occasionally glancing over their shoulder at the couple.

"What?"

"We need to talk."

Swallowing, Draco nodded.

"I love you," said Ron, tracing Draco's cheekbone with his index finger.  "I've been trying not to tell you because I know you don't love me back.  I don't expect you to say it, okay?  I just want you to know that . . . I've loved you since we were kids.  When we were little, it was respect.  When we were fighting these past years at Hogwarts, I was hurt you would do something like that to a friend, but had you approached me and acted like the person I knew as a kid, I would have loved you again.  Now - I love you romantically.  I can't not tell you.  So, what I'm trying to say is, don't feel like you need to say it back just because I say it.  I'd rather have you not tell me you love me than have you tell me that you do and not mean it."

Pressing his lips together, Draco nodded.

"Okay."

"Okay," said Ron, breaking out into a sad smile.  Meeting Draco's lips with his own, Ron allowed his eyelids to flutter closed, and his eyelashes kissed the apples of his cheeks as his lips moved against Draco's, causing the nerves in the tissue to tingle and shoot waves of pleasure through his entire body.  Nodding, Ron murmured against Draco's lips, "Okay."


	13. Escalated Tensions

**Penname:  Page of Cups**

**Email:  AndromedanPrincess@hotmail.com**

**Title:  Everything Changes**

**Pairing:  Ron Weasley/Draco Malfoy**

**Rating:  R**

**Summary:  Wherein Harry is getting annoying, Snape gives them detention, and Draco has had quite enough.**

**Disclaimer: This story contains characters, locations, and other random things created and/or owned by J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury Publishing, Scholastic, Inc., etc.**** Since no money is being made, no infringement is intended. Section 102(b) of the U.S. Copyright Act states that copyright protection does not extend to ideas, procedures, concepts, principles or discoveries, but the actual words used to express those things.**

**I am not JK.  If this is not apparent by now, please click back on your browser, or visit the official Harry Potter site.  I'm sure they'll be happy to have you.**

****

**_Chapter Thirteen:  Escalated Tension_**

"Oh, Malfoy," called Harry in a singsong voice, and Ron cringed, looking from his friend over to where Draco was hanging outside of the Potions classroom with Goyle.  Crabbe, however, was nowhere in sight.  "Have you seen today's _Prophet_?  I think you'll find it incredibly interesting."

Ever since Christmas holiday, whenever Harry and Draco were in the same room together, it was like walking on broken glass.  Ron didn't know what to do, stuck in the middle between Draco and Harry, going from one extreme to the other.  On one side, there was Harry, his best friend for years, who was only looking out for him and sincerely believed that he was protecting Ron by trying to chase Draco off.  On the other side, there was Draco, his former best friend, his current lover, and someone who had gone through enough for Ron to understand the transformation he had gone under.  Only Hermione remained somewhat neutral, and Ron now looked at her with misery in his eyes.  He hadn't seen the _Daily Prophet_ today.  What could have it possibly feature that was making Harry so chipper, enough to be waving the periodical in Draco's face?

Snatching the paper out of Harry's hands, Draco glared at him and briefly flicked his eyes to Ron, a withering look in his eyes that was clearly tired of Harry Potter's existence.  Goyle's gaze made Ron feel uneasy as he stared at Ron, Draco snapping the paper open to look at the day's headlines.  His eyes went through a myriad of emotions, most of them dealing with either anger or humiliation by the pink that was seeping into his pale cheeks, and Draco folded the paper up again before hurling it back at Harry.

"So?" was all he said, his voice even and calculated.  Some of the Slytherins who were arriving at Potions had started to gather around them, and Ron sneered when Pansy Parkinson attached herself to Draco's side.

"Looks like Daddy Dearest is in a spot of trouble," said Harry, his grin wide, and Ron reached for the paper that was abandoned on the ground.

"Thriving on the trash of others, Weasley?" said Draco, causing the smile that was on Harry's face to flicker for a moment.  Straightening, Ron forced himself to cast the coldest glance possible at Draco before flipping the paper open.  "Well, they do always say that one man's trash is a Weasley's treasure."

"Suck me, Malfoy," said Ron, casually, his eyes searching for the headline that had brought Harry such pleasure.

"You know, Weasley, that could be arranged," drawled Draco, and both Pansy and Crabbe, who had now arrived, sniggered unpleasantly.  "Or do I have to ask Potter's permission first?  I'm sure he'd be willing to whore you out for a night, wouldn't you, Potter?"

"Leave him alone, Malfoy," sneered Harry.  "That's rich coming from the biggest slut Hogwarts has ever seen."

"And yet I don't even look at you.  Says something, doesn't it?"

"That you know I'm too smart to fall for your wily charms," Harry replied, smirking.

Then, their words wandered out of his mind, his eyes catching the headline at the bottom of the page.  _Dark Contraband Found at Malfoy Manor_ read the headline, the article following by Carmen Harris, a reporter who seemed desperate to follow in Rita Skeeter's footsteps.  Ron could hear Draco's cool drawl, Harry's irritated snap, continuing, but the words all slurred together in his ears; his focus belonged to Ms. Harris alone.

Apparently, a raid on Malfoy Manor had caught Malfoy senior off guard, and someone who wasn't Ron had tipped the ministry off to that secret chamber under the drawing room floor.  Glancing at Harry, Ron didn't have to wonder who that someone was.  Only he and Harry could possibly know about it and want to tell the ministry at the same time, and Ron knew it hadn't been him.  Harry was far too smug to have randomly come across the article.  What was he trying to do, anyway?  He knew Harry didn't approve, but did he really have to sabotage this relationship?  If it was going to fail, Ron wanted it to fail on its own.  They didn't need any outside help.

"Do it, Potter.  I dare you," said Draco, and it snapped Ron back to what was going on.

Hermione was biting her lip off to the side, looking nervously at Ron, and that was when he realized that sometime while he was reading, Draco and Harry had drawn their wands.

"There is nothing more I would like right now that to hex you," said Harry, dangerously.

"Then do it," said Draco.  "I don't think you have it in you, Potter.  Brave, courageous, wonderful Potter can't do anything without the Mudblood bitch and his pauper leech of a best friend backing him up."

"Never - talk - about - my - friends - like - that," said Harry, his fingers twitching on his wand.  "Keep on pushing me, Malfoy.  It won't break my heart to see you in pain."

"So, you're really no better, then," Draco affirmed, a strangely pleasant smile on his face as he turned to face Ron.  "You hear that, Weasel?  Your idol, Potter, is every bit as bad as the enemy.  Would be a shame to continue following him around like a puppy dog, wouldn't it?  You know what, Weasley?  Your call.  Should I hex him?  Use an Unforgivable?  Why don't you decide?"

"Harry, put your wand down," commanded Hermione, wrapping her fingers around Harry's wrist, but he jerked away, and gold sparks shot out of the end of his wand.  "Harry, come on.  Don't do this."

"I'm waiting, Weasel," said Draco, "or can't your pauper ears afford to hear me?"

"Put your wand down, Harry," said Ron, tersely.

"Ron," said Harry, and Draco snickered.

"Nice to see where his immediate concern lies, isn't it?" said Draco, smirking.  "Don't you feel special?  I know I would, having Weasel telling me what to do."

"Knock it off, Malfoy," said Ron, folding the newspaper in his hands and tucking it into his school bag.  "Put your wand down.  It isn't going to do anything to point them at each other, spitting insults back and forth.  I'm getting sick of the fighting.  We aren't twelve anymore."

"Funny coming from someone who pulled his wand on me only four days ago," said Draco, turning his wand from Harry to Ron.

"Sad pointing your wand at an unarmed opponent," replied Ron, provoking a frown out of Draco, his eyebrows furrowing and causing the corners of his lips to pull down.  "Just put the wand away, Malfoy.  You don't want to go through this with us again.  I'm sure you're just as tired of this pointless bantering as I am."

That was when Harry seized the opportunity to attack.  Ron barely registered the way Harry's fingers twitched around his wand, the way he slightly pulled back, but it was impossible not to hear him spit out some unrecognizable hex that he must have learned in one of his many sessions training for when he would face Voldemort again.  However, the words had already slid off Harry's tongue by the time Ron realized what just happened, and Draco jumped out of the way just in time for the stream of bright blue light to hit Pansy Parkinson.  Dropping to the ground, Pansy's body began to slightly twitch, whimpers of pain coming from her mouth.

"Harry," cried Ron, looking down at Pansy in disbelief.  The only thought on his mind was that it could have been Draco writhing instead.

"_Moteuris_," said Draco, calmly, looking down at Pansy with disinterest.  "Impressive.  Didn't think you had that in you, Potter.  Must have taken years of practice, not with a bit of luck, though."

"Malfoy," Harry growled, his fingers rubbing his wand.

"And just what, exactly, is going on here?" interrupted the cool, silky voice of Professor Snape, and Ron had never thought he would be so happy to see him.  Snape took one look at Pansy, the wands drawn by both Draco and Harry, and released a breath of air that could have either been a frustrated sigh or a growl.  "Miss Bulstrode, please help Miss Parkinson to the infirmary.  Mr. Potter, as I'm sure you have had some hand in this, twenty points from Gryffindor.  You, Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger, and Mr. Malfoy will report back here tonight at seven to complete your detention."

"But, Professor," protested Hermione.

"I'm sure, Miss Granger that you do not want to lose an additional twenty points for your house.  As it is, it would be in the best interest of both yourself and your house to close that unnaturally large mouth of yours.  Inside the classroom.  Now."

Put out, Hermione grinded her teeth together and brushed past Professor Snape to enter the Potions classroom.  Harry, sliding his wand into his pocket, grabbed his bag and followed after her, giving Malfoy a bone chilling glare that Ron could only be happy he wasn't on the receiving end of.  Draco's face was unreadable when Harry passed him, and he stayed where he was standing until the rest of the Gryffindors had gone in, following Harry and Hermione's lead.  Snape cast a resentful look at Ron, following in behind the Slytherins, and Crabbe snickered unpleasantly before heading in, seeming to think that because he was now a Death Eater, he had become the leader of their little gang.

"Do you always have to fight with him?" muttered Ron, just as Draco was about to go in.

"Does he always have to fight with me?  I didn't start it, or weren't you paying attention to that part?  Merlin forbid Potter ever be in the wrong.  Who ever heard of a Malfoy being the victim?"

"Draco," said Goyle, frowning, "shut up."

"Excuse me?"

"Shut up, Draco, before you say something you're going to regret.  Stop digging your own grave."  Casting a glance to Ron, Goyle gave him a short nod, though his face held an unreadable expression, and he shoved Draco's bag at him before entering the Potions classroom, leaving them alone.

"Harry's going to hear it from me later," said Ron, feeling stupid.  "I didn't mean -"

"I know, Weasley.  Don't apologize for something that isn't your fault.  If you continue to let Potter walk all over you like that, there's going to be nothing left for me to shag."

"I'm sure you could find a replacement."

"But no one has a bum as hot and sexy as yours."

Turning a bright red, Ron muttered incoherent phrases to himself, passing Draco and entering the Potions classroom.  Crossing the room, Ron took the vacant seat next to Harry and dropped his bag on the work table before him.

"What took you so long?" asked Harry, not meeting his eyes.

"You know why it took so long," said Ron, trying to will himself not to snap at Harry.  It wouldn't make things better if he did, anyway, and Ron wasn't ready to willingly make things worse.

"What did you say?"

"I asked him why he always had to fight with you, if you really want to have this conversation in Potions.  Now that the subject's been brought up, though, why do you always have to start with him?  I thought you were going to try to be civil."

"I'd be civil if he treated you right.  It's hard to be civil to someone when they treat your best friend like a . . ."

"Whore?" supplemented Ron.

After a moment of hesitation, Harry nodded.  "Yeah.  Something like that."

"He doesn't treat me like a whore.  You would know that if you spent more time with him without trying to hex him, or fighting with him.  Next time, would you alert me before you decide to tell the Ministry about some secret chamber where the Malfoys hoard things."

"Funny, that, coming from someone who was so excited about that piece of information he couldn't wait to get to the owlery to write his dad.  Never did tell, though, did you?"

"Thought I'd save it for a rainy day."

"As you all should know," interrupted Snape, cutting off the reply that had been sitting on the tip of Harry's tongue, "we are starting to brew Polyjuice Potion today.  You will be working in groups of three, which I will assign now.  You are not to switch groups, and Miss Granger is not to hiss directions in Mr. Longbottom's ear."

Both Hermione and Neville turned bright when Snape's gazes rested on them, and Neville shifted in his seat, looking helplessly at Hermione.

There had only been one group of all Gryffindors, and Ron was lucky enough to find himself in it.  Harry had been put with Crabbe and Blaise Zabini, much to his pleasure, because even if he was with Crabbe, that meant he wasn't with Draco, and that meant less bloodshed and infirmary visits.  Hermione had been paired with Parvati Patil, and Pansy Parkinson when she returned from the hospital wing.  Ron, however, was working with Neville and Lavender Brown, and he walked over to where Lavender and Neville had already congregated, watching as Draco sat down with Goyle and Seamus.

~*~

"He wouldn't have such a problem if he would just relax and concentrate," said Ron, later, at dinner with Hermione and Harry.  "Neville knows what to do, when to do it, but he second guesses himself because of Snape looming over him all the time.  Even Lavender was telling him to just go with his instincts, and follow the instructions."

"I know that, but Professor Snape won't ever leave him alone," said Hermione.  "And, unfortunately, thanks to someone whose name shall not be mentioned, we have detention tonight.  Thanks, Harry.  Professor McGonagall is going to be so pleased when she hears her Head Girl has detention."

"I thought you weren't naming names," replied Harry, looking a little sheepish.  "It's not my fault, Hermione.  Really."

"Well, it isn't always Malfoy's fault, either," she countered.

"Can we please not talk about this?" asked Ron, dropping his fork and rubbing at his temples with his index fingers.  "Not now."

Hermione and Harry quieted, staring at Ron.  The thumping in his head was becoming almost unbearable, and Ron didn't even give them a word of where he was going when he stood from the Gryffindor table to leave the Great Hall.  Making his way ever so slowly, Ron headed up to the hospital wing, and finding Madam Pomfrey, went about acquiring himself some headache potion.  She closely watched him as he ingested every last drop of the concoction, and wasn't even prompted to object when he requested lying down for a few moments before going on his way.

~*~

Cracking the door open to the Potions classroom, Ron could feel his face flush to see Snape giving him a grim smile, Hermione, Draco, and Harry all turning around to acknowledge his entrance.  Shuffling up to them, Ron took the vacant seat next to Draco without thinking, and didn't miss the way that Snape arched an eyebrow upon the decision.

"Mr. Weasley, how thoughtful of you to grace us with your presence.  As exhilarated as we all are for you to finally make an appearance, could you kindly remember to be on time in the near future," bit Snape, his dark eyes malevolently glowering at him.  "Typically, I would send you to clean something for Mr. Filch, but it's a full moon out tonight, and because of that, you are going to be collecting potions ingredients from the Forbidden Forest.  There is no need for me to accompany you, as none of these from the list will require going more than several meters in."

He handed the parchment to Hermione, probably assuming that she would be the most responsible about it, and the most likely to acquire the correct ingredients where as Harry and Ron would probably come back with weeds.  With a scathing glare, the group collectively decided they were dismissed, and Hermione was the first to stand, heading out of the classroom.  Harry, Ron, and Draco stood up after her, Harry going on ahead, and Ron bit his lower lip as Draco brushed his hand over the small of Ron's back, as if guiding him out.  Swallowing hard, Ron tried not to think about whether or not Snape had noticed the gesture as the door to the Potions classroom banged shut behind them.

"How long do you think this is going to take?" asked Harry, as they walked outside.  It was already dark, as it so often is at seven o'clock in January, and Ron couldn't help but smile as he felt Draco's arm wrap around his waist.

"Depends on how hard we're looking," said Hermione.  "If all you do is stand around and complain, it could take us all night.  If you actually try to be an integral part of this detention, only an hour or so."

"Which means, Potter, that the more you whine, the more things you'll have to whine about.  If you manage to keep that mouth of yours from flapping, the time we spend together will be much less."

"Draco," said Ron, softly, placing his hand over Draco's where it was resting on his hip.

"You know, Malfoy, I didn't even start anything with you this time, so you really have no place to talk about flapping mouths," said Harry.

"Harry," said Ron, frowning.

"Could you two not fight for a total of ten seconds?" snapped Hermione, spinning around to fix them each with a glower that would have put Professor McGonagall to shame.  "If not for my sanity and your own, than at least for Ron's.  Harry, be a best friend and try to get along with his boyfriend.  Malfoy, be a boyfriend, and try to get along with his best friend.  Trelawney could see that it's tearing him apart."

Huffing, she turned around once again and stomped off toward the Forbidden Forest.

"There's no need to be so petulant," muttered Draco.

"Honestly," agreed Harry.  Ron rolled his eyes.

Throughout the entire detention, Ron could feel Harry watching his interaction with Draco.  It had been the same way for weeks, ever since he found them in Ron's bed in Gryffindor Tower.  With the way he behaved, though, one would think he had caught them doing more than just sleeping in the bed.  Every little touch Draco skirted across Ron's skin registered in Harry's eyes; he was constantly on the look out for something to use to prove to Ron just how dastardly Draco's intentions were.  It had never occurred to Harry for a single second that perhaps Draco wasn't in this to destroy someone's life.

Things were wonderful at Christmas.  Ron and Draco had spent a good portion of the holiday in the privacy of the Head Boy room, making love or laying tangled in each other, reliving their friendship as children or discussing what would await Draco when Lucius contacted him for his Death Eater initiation.

Ron knew that Draco was planning to avoid going all together, to let Lucius figure out on his own by Draco's absence that he wasn't taking the Mark.    He knew that Crabbe was a Death Eater, that Goyle wasn't becoming one, either, and shortly after the students returned to Hogwarts, Ron had officially been introduced to Goyle, as a friend to Draco, and someone who actually supported their relationship.  In fact, Ron had quickly come to discover that Goyle had more faith in the relationship working than even Draco did.  It was a nice change of pace after Harry.

Harry, the same boy who was watching every move Draco made, cringed at every touch, as if any second Draco would whip out his wand and put the killing curse on Ron.  He had been beside himself, turning a bright red, when Draco had gently kissed Ron on the back of the neck, an only response to Ron, once again, professing his love.  He really had to stop using that 'L'-word when Harry was around if he didn't want his best friend to become a catatonic.

"Weasel, were you listening, or can't you even afford to pay attention?" said Draco, dropping whatever ingredient he had just gathered in the jar Professor Snape had given them for it.  Wrapping his arms around Ron's waist from behind, he placed his palms over Ron's pelvis on either side, and pulled him as close to his body as was physically possible.

"Not everyone can be as rich and spoilt as you," said Ron.

"No, but at least my family can afford individual combs," said Draco, playfully ruffling at Ron's hair.

"You would think with all that money, you could afford a better attitude."

"Better to be rich and pompous than a Muggle-lover."

"Not if you're being rich and pompous while you lick the underside of Voldemort's feet.  What were you saying before you so rudely interrupted my thoughts about what it would be like to throw you off the Astronomy Tower?"

"Just commenting on the state of your robes.  I would think your family goes hungry to clothe you, but I've seen your mother."

"Such a romantic.  You know, Malfoy, I would think your family bathes, but with that look on your mother's face, I must have been mistaken."

"I am a romantic, if you can call forcing you to your knees in pleasure and pain romanticism.  Where do you think we can fit the Cruciatus spell into our next session?"

"Sometime between the cocksucking and the fucking," replied Ron, smirking, and he noticed the way Harry and Hermione had stopped working as well, staring at them, gaping.  "Draco?"

"Hm?" he replied, gently biting on Ron's earlobe and tugging.

"Er - well . . . "  Ron's voice trailed off, his lower lip curling under his teeth, and Ron tried not to look too terribly pathetic.

"Knut for your thoughts," said Draco, grinning.  "Then not only will I know what you're thinking, but your family can feel like the richest lot in all the world."

"Why do you let him say things like that to you?" Harry suddenly snapped, and Hermione turned away from him to either go back to gathering ingredients or moving the already collected ingredient so that Harry didn't upset them.

"What are you talking about, Harry?" said Ron, trying to sound innocent.

"You know what I'm talking about.  Why do you let him say things like that to you if he's your boyfriend and he's supposed to be just so wonderful?"

Draco had leaned his head against Ron's, his arms still wrapped around Ron's waist, and he fixed Harry with a look of utmost contempt and disgust.

"What we say to each other is really none of your business, Potter."

"He was joking, Harry," said Ron.  "He doesn't mean what he says, and I don't mean what I say."

"You don't mean what you say, but he _does," said Harry, indicating to Draco.  "He's got it in for you!  Why don't you see that?"_

"Because he doesn't have it in for me!" cried Ron, unable to remain calm.  Draco placed a hand on his chest, restraining Ron from suddenly pulling away.

"Ron, I've heard you tell him that you love him, quite foolishly may I add, several times now.  Not once has he returned the sentiment -"

"I'd rather have him not say it than say it and not mean it," snapped Ron.  "We've had this conversation, and you would know that if you bothered to care."

"I do care.  That's why I don't think you shouldn't be letting him walk all over you."

"You know, Potter," interrupted Draco, his words slow and drawling, "I find it rich that you're accusing me of talking wrongly to Weasley when you're just as bad as I was."

"I don't know what you could possibly be thinking, Ron!" said Harry, ignoring the fact that Draco had spoken to him.  "You've never liked Malfoy.  A few months ago, you were going on and on about how you hated him, how disgusting he was, and how you couldn't understand why Malfoy was still getting laid when everyone knew how he treated people.  Yet, here you are, Malfoy's bitch.  Is it because you feel like you don't get enough attention from us?  I don't know, Ron.  Malfoy?  You just tried to beat the piss out of him in November.  Two months later and you're shagging other bodily fluids out of him."

"Face it, Potter," snarled Draco.  "You're just jealous that he's chosen me over you."

"Malfoy, I don't fancy Ron.  He's my best friend and I don't want to see him get hurt."

"I didn't mean it that way, though funny how you're mind went right to it.  You're jealous because he's defending me, siding with me, and he isn't following you around like your number one fan anymore.  Perhaps we should let that Creevy kid know.  He's been trying to get into Weasel's position for years.  As for him getting hurt, maybe someone should monitor you."

"I don't know what you're talking about, Malfoy.  I don't see it.  Why would he degrade himself so much just to be with you?  I highly doubt you're such a great shag that the humiliation is necessary."

"Who's humiliated?" said Draco, frowning.  "Weasley doesn't seem to have a problem being with me.  The only one who has a problem here is you."

"I'm looking out for him.  You treat him the way you've always treated him, and it used to piss him off.  Rightly so, if you ask my opinion."

"But we haven't.  No one has asked your opinion.  You've been kind enough to supply it to us, though.  And just how do I treat him, Potter?  Tell me.  The only one I see treating him like shit is you."

"Could you please stop talking about me as if I'm not right here?" snapped Ron, pulling out of Draco's grip.  "This is how things are, okay?  I'm in love with Draco.  Yes, it hurts that he doesn't love me back, but it would hurt more if he pretended to love me and I found out he didn't.  Harry, I know you're my best friend, and I understand that you think you're doing the right thing.  I can even tolerate your annoying habit of sticking your nose where it doesn't belong.  It's all a part of your hero syndrome.  What I can't tolerate is this fighting between you.

"Harry, Draco isn't using me, and if he is, than that's something I have to come to terms with on my own.  You aren't going to rescue me.  Draco, Harry is only doing what he thinks is best for me.  He doesn't understand you -"

"He doesn't try to understand me."

"But you don't try, either.  You're both trying to prove that you're better than the other, and I can't take it.  I just can't take this.  I want you as my friend, Harry, and I want you as my boyfriend, Draco, but I can't keep going like this."

Burying his fingers into his hair, Ron wrapped the wan ginger strands around the digits.  Glancing up at the moon floating through the branches, some faint part of his mind told him that Lupin would have transformed tonight.

"What I need right now is for you to be civil when you speak, or just not talk to each other at all.  If you can't do that - I don't know.  I would have to seriously think things over about both of you."

"Ron -" started Harry.

"I mean it.  I don't know if I can have such an overbearing friend, or such an arrogant boyfriend.  Please try.  I know it's hard . . . let me make my mistakes on my own, Harry.  Please."

"I'm sorry, Ron," muttered Harry, refusing to meet Draco's eyes, which wasn't a problem because Draco was looking anywhere but right at Harry.

"Sorry," echoed Draco.  "If Potter will stop attacking me, I'll be civil."

Even in the dim light of the Forbidden Forest, Ron could tell that Harry's face was going bright red.  Well, he should be embarrassed, thought Ron, after all the commotion he caused.  Mumbling the slightest of apologies in Draco's direction, Harry roughly turned around to help Hermione with the task at hand, leaving Draco and Ron staring at each other.

"I love you, Malfoy," said Ron, reaching out to grab Draco's wrist and gently pull him forward.

"All I can offer is an 'I don't want to lose you,'" said Draco.

"That'll do."

**The next chapter will come when it comes.  I won't make any promises.  Chapter 14 is full of surprises, though (if I remember correctly, and I may not) so stay tuned.**

**The new story is finished and being formatted and beta-ed as I type.  Will let you know when it's finished.**


	14. Decisions

**Penname:  Page of Cups**

**Email:  AndromedanPrincess@hotmail.com**

**Title:  Everything Changes**

**Pairing:  Ron Weasley/Draco Malfoy**

**Rating:  R**

**Summary:  Draco is torn, Crabbe is annoying, and Ron is miserable**

**I've put up enough disclaimers in my life to let people know that I'm not J.K. Rowling.  Honestly.  If I was, then this wouldn't have turned AU when Order of the ****Phoenix**** came out. **

**Chapter Fourteen:  Decisions**

Draco rolled the parchment into a ball between his slender fingers, eyes staring at the ceiling of the Slytherin common room.  The letter in his hand hadn't left his line of sight for more than five minutes since it arrived this morning with the mail, and now when it was going on dinner time, Draco thought he might be obsessing.  Then again, it wasn't every day you were handed your death sentence on a silver platter, or a smooth piece of parchment in his case.  Things like this came around only once in the life of a Death Eater offspring and Draco was proud to say he was now holding his initiation letter.  What would his father do when he realized that Draco was going to have no part in the group?

January had gone, and it was now the middle of February.  Life at Hogwarts had come to a dull stand still, everyone suffering from a bit of cabin fever due to the extreme amounts of snow that fell this year.  Last time Draco went out, he returned with his trousers and cloak soaked with the flaky white substance.  Everyone grew restless, and Draco was among them, but that had a large part to do with Death Eater initiations.

Things with Ron were going better than Draco ever hoped.  Once or twice, that bloody 'L' word almost joined his vocabulary, but he was good to mind himself about actions like that.  No use in misleading Ron, thinking that something could come of them once their days at Hogwarts were over.  They were approaching all too fast as it was.  Of course, this was assuming that Draco lived until he finished his schooling.  The odds were against him, and all bets that Draco would die before June would be worth a handful or two of Galleons.

Glancing around the common room, Draco assured himself that no one could read Lucius's scrawl, then slid open the letter for what must have been the millionth time that day.  The parchment was already bent and worn, a result of Draco's constant vigilance over it.  He practically had every word memorized by now, down to the way Lucius's letters slanted, and the dashes over his I's instead of dots.  For a whole ten seconds, Draco considered sending a return letter with hearts over the I's.

Draco,

You should be very proud.  The Dark Lord has given approval for your acceptance into our circle.  You have proven yourself worthy.  The ceremony will take place on February 28th, at eleven-thirty p.m.  Follow the path around Hogwarts grounds until you come to the underground harbor where first years are taken on the first day at school.  There will be a boat waiting for you and the others.  It will leave at eleven.  I will meet you at the ceremony site.  Do not be late.

Burn this letter after you've read it.  No use in causing unnecessary commotion.

He hadn't signed it.  Draco wasn't surprised.  Lucius often didn't sign letters that were sent to his son.  Draco assumed this largely had something to do with the fact Lucius felt foolish signing things like 'Your father', and couldn't sign it with his usual 'L.C. Malfoy.'

Disregarding the instructions, Draco rolled the parchment up in his hand again, and began to roll it through his fingers.  You should be very proud, his father had written.  He had proven himself worthy.  Proud of what?  Proud of proving himself worthy of an ugly skull to mar his porcelain skin?  Perhaps he was supposed to be proud of accepting slave status.  He was having none of it.  If his father wanted to be on the bottom of the Death Eater food chain, Draco would not dissuade him; he simply would not be joining.

"Letter?"

Draco snapped his head up, and Goyle laughed.  His heart beat against his ribcage, and when he saw who it was sitting opposite him, Draco tried to regulate his breathing.  Relaxing back into his chair, Draco balled the parchment between his palms again.  He sighed.

"Letter."

"Got mine this morning, too.  Eleven on the twenty-eighth?"

"You too?"

"Yeah.  So what are we going to do about this?"

"We?"

"We're in this together, aren't we?"

Draco stared, dumbstruck, at his friend.  He couldn't remember a time before now when things were like this.  It had always been the three of them, or Draco separated from Crabbe and Goyle.  There had often been this sense like Draco had no one to be close to, which was true, because his best friend was Ron before Hogwarts.  At school, Ron's best friend was Potter, and Draco was on his own.  It was strange to have Ron back, in a new way, and still have Goyle for a friend.

They were in it together, though.  Draco often thought that Crabbe and Goyle were going to realize one day that they didn't need Draco to be their leader.  They could have easily finished him off themselves, and didn't really need all the commotion Draco caused in their lives.  Crabbe seemed to have taken the message, turned out to be the friend Draco had always thought he was.  Goyle was a different story, and Draco didn't know what to make of him.

"Knut for your thoughts?"

"Just thinking that it's strange to be excluding Crabbe."

"He excluded us first."

Draco didn't miss the hint of bitterness in Goyle's voice.

"So what does your letter say?"

"Meeting place.  Burn letter after reading.  The usual.  You?"

"My father gave me a guilt trip all about how I should be very proud to be considered worthy of the mark.  Even used the word our when talking about the circle, like I was a part of them already.  Like they're a different species than the rest of the wizarding world, and I'm about to become one of them."

"They may as well be."

The concentration and conversation between the two was broken, and Crabbe walked through the entrance to Slytherin with Moira Nott, Pansy Parkinson, and two sixth year boys that Draco recognized from Junior Death Eater fledgling meetings.  When Crabbe spotted them, his eyes narrowed, and he divided himself from his company, walking over to join them.

Ever since receiving his mark, he disassociated himself from them.  Draco assumed that if he was going out of his way to join them again, he must know about the initiation letters.  Pansy, Moira, and the sixth years barely acknowledged Crabbe's absence before going back to laughing and talking about whatever had been their topic of discussion before entering the common room.

Goyle flinched when Crabbe sat next to him on the black leather couches.  Crabbe didn't notice, because his eyes went instantly to the balled parchment between Draco's fingers.  Without asking, he snatched it from him, unrolled it just long enough to see the nature of the correspondence, and then tossed it into the fire.  The absence of surprise confirmed what Draco had speculated:  Crabbe knew all about the ceremony.

"You're very lucky, you know," said Crabbe, his voice very forced.

"How are we lucky?" snapped Goyle.

"That question doesn't even have room to be asked.  You'll be joining him.  Isn't that honor enough?"

"You didn't used to think so."

"I didn't know what I was talking about.  We thought they were slaves, but it isn't like that at all.  It's an empire, and there's room for everyone.  Everyone who knows enough to follow.  It isn't servitude.  It's a bit of push and a bit of pull."

"It's doing Voldemort's work for him while he reaps the rewards.  It's degrading."

"It's an honor."

There was a glint coming into Crabbe's eyes, as he finally turned his focus onto Goyle.  They were glowering at each other, and Draco almost expected one to pounce on the other.  Crabbe mustn't have been as affected by the tension as he thought, however, because he returned his eyes to Draco.

"What's up with you and Weasley?" he asked, calmly.  Goyle's glare softened, and transferred from Crabbe to Draco.

"What do you mean?"

"You and Weasley.  Every time I see you in class, you're working with him, or talking to him.  You've always focused your time on Weasley.  That and -"

Crabbe's voice trailed off, and from the pointed glare he was receiving, Draco had a fairly good idea what Crabbe was about to get to.  As a child, Draco had always talked in his sleep.  Lucius always told him that he would grow out of it once he went to Hogwarts, and Draco thought he had, but if what Goyle told him was true . . . Draco decided to take a guess, and hope he wasn't too far off.

"Weasley would be a great lay," he said, simply.  "He's got a lot of energy, and I wouldn't mind taking a bit of it for myself.  That's all."

"You've almost been nice to him."

Excellent.  That had been what Crabbe was about to get to.  Goyle nodded the smallest acknowledgment of approval at Draco's actions.  He tried to collect his mind, and get himself together enough that he wouldn't let Crabbe know something was amiss.

"Do you really think Weasley would put out if I wasn't nice to him?  He'd be a great lay, but he's no slut."

"That had better be all it is. If it weren't -- I'm sure your father would find it very interesting."

"I'm sure he'd find it interesting regardless.  Taking a Weasley, ruining his innocence . . . I think my father would be proud."

Crabbe looked thrown, a little unsure, and his eyes didn't leave Draco until he stood to rejoin his group.  Once he had gone, Goyle stood, stretched, and tilted his head toward the Slytherin entrance.  His eyes never left Draco, and the latter nodded.  Together, they passed by Crabbe and the others, leaving Slytherin.

Draco didn't know where they were going until he was sitting by the fire in the Head Boy room, wrapped in the same bottle green blanket that Ron made love to him in the night before.  It still smelled like him, and Draco buried his face into the material, inhaling the scent.  To his right, the fire crackled, and Draco started to feel drowsy at Ron's scent mixed with the burning embers.

"He's on to you," said Goyle.  "You and Weasley.  He knows there's something going on, and I think he knows you were lying."

"You sure?  I thought he bought it."

"It seemed . . . Crabbe isn't what people expect of him.  We've always done a very good job of making people believe we're thicker than we really are.  I mean -- granted, we weren't the brightest of people in our first few years, but in Death Eater training, you learn a thing or two.  You don't know him like I do.  I think he knows more than we can possibly presume."

"How much more?"

"Draco, I wouldn't be surprised if he's seen Weasley leave your room.  He's probably recognized Amadeus leaving Weasley messages.  Might have even intercepted a letter or two.  He knows Amadeus, and he corresponds with your father."

"He corresponds with my father?" said Draco, snorting.  "What?  Do they send each other love letters?"

"It isn't funny, Draco.  We both used to.  You know that our fathers have always insisted on us being friends, because we're both pureblood, from long lines of Slytherins.  Your father -- he writes us occasionally.  He's stopped writing me now that Crabbe's got the Dark Mark.  Probably told him that I'm thinking about resisting it.  I think they're expecting us to resist, and that's why they've planned our initiation for the same night."

"My father wrote to you?  About what?"

"Everything.  Mostly you.  Asking us questions about what you were doing at school.  Making sure you were becoming a proper heir.  Seems to think that you're going to be a spot of trouble.  If only he knew.  Problem is, I think he has some idea.  Would explain why he's not writing me anymore, anyway.  You of all people should know that with our families, things are never what they seem."

"So what you're saying is that Crabbe probably knows the nature of my relationship with Ron.  Thus, my father knows about the nature of my relationship with Ron."  Draco sighed.  "Which means he'll be expecting me to reply with a big fuck you, and as soon as I do, either Ron or I am as good as dead."

"Pretty much, yes, that's what I was saying."

"So what do I do?"

"I suggest prayer.  As for me, I'm just not going to reply at all.  Let my father and Crabbe think I'm going, and then just not show up at all.  You?"

"Suppose I'm going to have to do the same.  Let them think I'm coming.  The more time I have them distracted, the more time I have to make Ron safe.  After I don't show . . . they're going to go after him just to hurt me.  I could make them think he means nothing to me."

"The last time you tried to do something like that with him, you ended up in worlds of trouble."

"But this time is different.  This time, Ron -- it's just different."

"It's not that different."

"Maybe I should just go.  I don't want it . . ."

"Don't tell me you're really thinking about taking the Mark."

"I could become a spy."

"That's dangerous work, Draco.  And you said you didn't love Weasley."

"My father isn't easily abated, and we're going to have to live with Crabbe."

"Listen, Draco, just don't say anything.  Give yourself time to think it over and decide what you really want to do.  You have two weeks yet to decide.  No use wasting them."

"February twenty-eighth," said Draco.  "That's the day before Ron's birthday."

"Lovely.  Since the meeting starts at eleven-thirty, you'd probably get your mark at midnight, right when it hits March first.  Can you imagine that?  You'd come back, show him your arm, and scream, 'Happy Birthday!  I'm a spy!'  I don't think Weasley would appreciate that gift."

Draco didn't seem to hear him, wrapping his arms around his legs and resting his chin on his knees.  Goyle sighed and sat back in his chair.

"Come on, Draco.  Just forget about it for now.  Let's go down to the Great Hall and get something to eat.  You can worry your head about this later, or tomorrow, or any time other than now."

Nodding, Draco stood, and the two left the Slytherin common room.

~*~

From the corner of his eye, Ron watched nervously as Draco allowed the runespoor to wrap around his shoulders.  It seemed that for once, Hagrid acquired the perfect animal for Care of Magical Creatures; one that Draco actually took a fancy to.  A three headed serpent of livid orange with black spots, Harry joked that it was a Chudley Cannons snake.  Said serpent was now making itself comfortable on Draco, and Hagrid was instructed the class to get closer.  Where Hagrid had gotten these African snakes, Ron had no idea, but he planned on staying far away.  At least he had until Draco was given permission to roam freely, and he went right for Ron.

"What's the matter, Weasley?" said Draco, snickering.  "Afraid of snakes as well as spiders and your own shadow?"

Goyle seemed to slightly roll his eyes, but Crabbe snickered unpleasantly.  One eye seemed trained on Draco as the latter approached Ron, holding the three heads outward.

"Get it away from me, Malfoy."

"Oh, Weasley, don't you like it?"

"Malfoy -" said Ron, tersely.  Crabbe unwrapped the snake from its place around Draco, and then draped it across Ron.  Draco tried to offer an apologetic smile, but Ron was too busy trying not to move a limb.  The last thing he wanted to do was to disturb it, and possibly suffer the wrath of a very upset beast.

"Relax, Ron," said Harry, glaring at Draco.  "It won't hurt you."

"How do you know?"

Harry looked at him as if her were very stupid before taking the snake from Ron, and wrapping it around its own shoulders.  As he walked back in the direction Hagrid was, Ron could hear him hissing.  Of course.  Harry was a Parselmouth.  Ron had a tendency to forget that every once in a while.  No wonder he looked at Ron so curiously.

"Sorry about that," said Draco.  Crabbe seemed to have been dragged away by a joint effort of Millicent Bulstrode and Goyle.

"Sorry about what?  Harassing me with evil snakes."

"Actually, runespoors aren't notorious for being dangerous.  Only the right head is poisonous, and that one is usually assaulted by the other two.  Weren't you listening to Hagrid?"

"You actually were listening?"

"Miracles come around once in a lifetime.  I need to talk to you."

Ron's face fell at the strong lines that had become ingrained in Draco's face.

"What about?"

"I can't talk to you about it here.  Meet me tonight in my room, okay?  Goyle's going to be there, too.  I asked him to come, so if you could try and get along . . ."

"No problem.  Should be easier than you and Harry getting along.  I'm the one who is asking for too much.  What nature is the thing we need to discuss?"

"Something you won't be pleased with."  Draco chanced a look back to the rest of the class, and pulled Ron behind a tree, blocking them from view.  "I got a little something from my father in the mail.  I'll tell you everything tonight."

Ron nodded.

"All right.  Tonight, then.  What time?"

"Seven if you can manage."

"Not a problem."

Giving Ron a grin, Draco squeezed his hand, and then released it.  As he returned to where Crabbe and Goyle stood, Ron draped his fingers over the hand Draco touched.  A little something in the mail, courtesy of Lucius Malfoy, that Draco didn't believe Ron would be particularly pleased with.  It was just enough to keep Ron on edge, and seven o'clock would not come fast enough if Ron were to triple the speed of time.

~*~

"Hello there, Weasley," said Goyle, as Ron approached.  "You should be more careful when you're coming to visit Draco.  Anyone could see you."

"Yeah, I probably should be.  Do you have any idea what he wants to talk to us about?"

"A fairly good idea as he's already discussed it with me.  Would have said something to you, too, but he didn't get a chance until we were in class.  Crabbe would notice if he spent most of the time talking to you.  Besides, you're probably going to want to touch him when he tells you.  Hug him, hold him . . . something.  Just try to wait for most of the gushy stuff until after I leave.  The thought of Draco getting fluffy makes me sick to my stomach."

"Is there something wrong?  Is Draco okay?"

"That's pending."

"Perfect."

Goyle said the password when they arrived at Draco's room, and the door clicked.  Turning the knob, Ron eased the door open, and Goyle followed close behind.  Draco sat at his desk, head bent over the top as he scribbled on parchment with his quill.  Dipping it in the ink, he hesitated, nibbled on the knuckle of his thumb, and touched the quill again before scrawling.  Goyle cleared his throat.

"It's seven."

Draco's head snapped up, and the quill fell from his fingers.  It made a large ink blot right over the third paragraph.  Judging from the books laying about, he had been working on his Transfiguration homework.  Part of Ron felt sorry for him, seeing as how he was going to have to copy everything he wrote over again.

"You wanted to talk to me?" said Ron.

"Oh.  Yeah.  Er - have a seat . . . somewhere."

Ron looked around, and was alarmed to find that Draco's usually pristine room was in disarray.  Indeed, it looked a lot like the Gryffindor boys' dormitory usually looked after Seamus had gotten himself comfortable.  Yesterday's robes were draped across one of the high back chairs, and school texts were piled on the others.  He hadn't even made his bed, and the sheets were partially strewn on the ground.

Goyle didn't seem to have a problem with this arrangement, picking up an advanced History of Magic text, and placing it on the table before him.  He sat down, looked to Draco, and said, "Just because you're nervous doesn't mean you have to become a slob."

"Draco, are you all right?" asked Ron.

"I'm fine."

His fingers shook as he put his quill away, not even noticing the splotch on his essay.

"What did you want to talk to me about?"

Throwing the robes on the ground to clear off his chair, Draco sat, and motioned for Ron to have a seat.  Dropping on the arm of Draco's chair, he watched intently as Draco's arm came around his back, and his palm rested lightly above the cleft of Ron's arse.

"I got my initiation letter yesterday."

"Your initiation . . . to become a Death Eater?"

"Yes.  My father sent it . . . Crabbe's seen it."

"He can't be trusted," said Goyle.

"I wanted to tell you . . . I don't know what I'm going to do yet.  I wasn't planning on going, on replying to my father, and telling him to stick his Dark Mark up his arse, but recent revelations have prevented such an action."

"We're under the impression that Crabbe somehow knows about you two, and has relayed the information to Lucius."

"Which means that he'd be after you just as much as me if I don't show."

Ron stared at Draco, then at Goyle, at a loss for words when looking at either one.  He could feel himself gaping, could see his mouth hanging open in his mind, and he tried to look less foolish.  It wasn't coming off well.

"What does that mean?" said Ron, finally.

"He wants to take the Mark," said Goyle.  "Become a spy."

"You'll get hurt!  No!  No way, Draco."

"Either way, someone is going to be after me.  No matter what I do I could get hurt.  I don't want you to get hurt, too.  One of us should make it out of this unscathed, and it's unfair to hurt you just because I wanted to get you into bed."

Ron tried not to let the last comment sting.  He knew that had been Draco's sole intention when they first were together.  Still, it wasn't easy or pleasant to hear.  Then, there was this problem where Draco was sitting here, claiming that he was going to take the Dark Mark.

"You said you wouldn't, Draco," said Ron, flatly.  "Can't you just . . . when do you have to decide?"

"February twenty-eighth."

"Could you . . . don't make any decisions yet.  Please, Draco.  Just think about it until then.  If you still want to, then I'm not going to stop you.  I wouldn't be able to even if I tried."

"All right, but until then, trust no one but me, Goyle, Potter, and Granger.  Anyone else . . . I don't even want to think about what could happen."

"This isn't going to get mushy, is it?" said Goyle.  Ron and Draco shot glares in his direction.  "What?  I mean, I don't want to be in the middle of an 'I love you so much' moment."

"We may get mushy.  Why?" said Draco.  "Would you like to leave?"

"If you're going to have 'please don't leave me' sex, then yes."

"We get to have sex over this?" said Draco.  "Excellent.  Get out of here, Goyle."

Ron's laugh was halfhearted as Goyle left the room, and Draco pulled Ron into his lap.  Draco's head lay against the back of the chair, and Ron nuzzled his face into his neck.


	15. Mistakes

**Penname: Page of Cups**

**Email: AndromedanPrincess@hotmail.com**

**Title: Everything Changes**

**Pairing: Ron Weasley/Draco Malfoy**

**Rating: R**

**Summary: Draco is under pressure, and Ron is out of his mind**

**Disclaimer: This story contains characters, locations, and other random things created and/or owned by J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury Publishing, Scholastic, Inc., etc.**** Since no money is being made, no infringement is intended. Section 102(b) of the U.S. Copyright Act states that copyright protection does not extend to ideas, procedures, concepts, principles or discoveries, but the actual words used to express those things. I know. I'm researching my copyright abilities.**

**Chapter Fifteen:  Mistakes**

There was no other word to describe the weeks that followed than subdued.  While Hogwarts bustled with busy life around them, a sort of frenzy brought on by mid-winter blues, Draco's life had become a constant spiral from which he could not be delivered.  No one else had been told of what transpired in the Head Boy room that night, and though Ron pretended not to be affected by it, Draco could see the difference in everything he did.

Sometimes, Draco thought that something about Ron just smelled different than it had before.  His poise was all wrong, his gesticulations faulted, and if Draco wasn't one hundred percent sure that this was his Ron, he would have thought someone was pulling a Moody on him.  Down to the way that Ron flipped his hair out of his eyes, he was affected.  Draco felt so responsible for tarnishing him, but hadn't that been his purpose in the first place.  Things had come so far, Draco wasn't sure what his reasoning had ever been, nor was he sure if it made sense at all.

Ron was nervous.  Draco couldn't deny that, no matter how many assorted explanations he would try to come up with for his strange behavior.  There could no longer be comfortable silence between them; Ron was forever filling it with idle prattle.  Lying in each other's arms could no longer bring them peace simply through the action.  Something else now needed to go along with it.  Hell, Draco couldn't even bask in Ron's company anymore without feeling the tensions being strung high and mighty.

Who could really blame Ron?  If their positions were reversed, Draco would be a complete mess, which Ron would have to clean up.  Shortly after the confession, Draco had promised Ron that he wouldn't take the Dark Mark, rather reluctantly.  He couldn't stand the thought of Ron being hurt, but he couldn't stand the thought of Ron hurting because he was too afraid to take a risk even more.  What could be done about his father, however, Draco didn't know.  He felt like he was placed very strategically in a game of chess.  Too bad he never really got a fancy for the game.

When Draco woke up on the dreary morning of February twenty-eighth, his father was the first thing to come into his mind.  His mind was in the hazy place between dreams and reality.  Reeling off the residue of a particularly horrifying scene in which the Dark Mark was burned deeply into his arm, Draco pulled up his sleeve to take a look.  The skin was pale, clean, and unmarred.  It would be this way tomorrow morning as well (upon Ron's request), but his father would be furious about it.  With the distinct impression that he was under the closest scrutiny he could ever experience, Draco got out of bed, and dressed for the day.

After a quick stop into Snape's classroom, Draco headed for the staircase leading out of the dungeons.  It was a trip going from the prefects corridors to the dungeons and back to the Great Hall without too much notice, but Draco did fairly well.  Running into Crabbe on his way into the hall, he joined up with him and Goyle, and the three headed for the Slytherin table.  Apparently, now that they were less than twenty-four hours away from their marks, Crabbe could be seen with them again.  It must have seemed very strange to the Hogwarts faculty.

Today was a Saturday, and so after breakfast, Draco hurried back to the Head Boy room.  Ron was instructed by note (cleverly tucked into the waistband of his school trousers during yesterday's Potions lesson) to meet him there after breakfast.  Draco had birthday plans to discuss, and wanted the pleasure of Ron's company for the last time when they could be relaxed about things.

Walking into his room, Draco was pleased to see that Ron had left himself in.  He had made Draco's bed, and was sprawled across it, drawing things like toads and owls on a spare piece of parchment.  Draco removed his shoes, set them at the end of the bed, and snatched the parchment away.  Grabbing Ron's arm, he stretched out beside him, and let Ron's arm fall to his chest.

"Well?" asked Ron.  "Was there something you wanted?"

"Yeah," said Draco, reaching over to the table beside his bed.  Ron grabbed his forearm, rolled up his sleeve, and started to doodle on Draco's arm in ink that looked purple.  Deciding to ignore it, he sifted through the drawer.  "Got something for your birthday."

"Don't tell me you got sex toys."

"Not exactly.  What do you think of bondage?"

"What?  You're going to tie me up?"

"Perhaps.  Unless you want to tie me up."

"I can get into that.  What did you get?"

Draco grinned, then tossed a pile of material at Ron.  He couldn't help but laugh, sifting through the small pile of Gryffindor and Slytherin ties.

"You're going to tie me up with the school uniform?"

"It was an idea," said Draco.

"Once again, I can get into that.  I do hope you go me a proper present."

"Of course I did."

Draco reached in his pocket, and produced a small vile of crimson liquid.

"And that is . . ."

"Weasley, I'm appalled.  I would think that you would recognize a vial of Rapports Excite potion when you saw it."

"A vial of what?"

"Honestly, Weasley, don't you pay attention in Potions?"

"Not really," said Ron, snickering.

"Then allow me to elaborate.  Do the words November and aphrodisiac mean anything to you?"

"Yeah.  You were my partner and tried to seduce me.  Did a wicked good job of it, too."

"That is what this potion is.  It's the aphrodisiac we made in class.  I thought we should test it and let Snape know how well it works."

"Happy Birthday to me."

"What are you doing, Weasley?"

Ron arched an eyebrow, dipped the quill into the inkwell, and went back to doodling.

"Something."

"Something like what?  I'm not going to be walking around with a penis on my arm, am I?"

"Better."

"Where did you get purple ink?"

"It's Hermione's.  She leant it to me to underline things for our upcoming Charms exam.  Seems to think I spend too much time shagging, and not enough time studying.  I told her that shagging you is more important than studying, but she just doesn't understand.  I think someone needs to get her a boyfriend."

Draco snickered.

"So what are you doing today?" asked Ron.

"Don't know.  Nothing.  Locking myself in my room so that my father can't suddenly burst in here and kill me during my sleep.  Something like that.  By the way, you need to come around midnight.  I want to bring in your birthday the best way possible."

"With a hand job and an orgasm?"

"Precisely.  Weasley, I think I've corrupted you."

"Mmm," said Ron, nodding.  His lips twitched into a smirk, and he returned the quill to the inkwell.  On Draco's arm was a rough sketch of the dark mark, done in a vibrant purple, with a furry rabbit replacing the customary snake.  The skull also had bright, curly hair.

"Making a mockery of Voldemort?"

"Well today is the day you get your Mark.  I thought I'd do it for you."

"Voldemort would kill you if he saw that."

"Voldemort would kill me because I continue to suck oxygen.  I really couldn't care less."

"When did you get so bold?"

"I'm not a Gryffindor for nothing.  Besides, ever since Ginny . . . it really is a silly looking mark, don't you think?  I think the purple hair gives it a little something extra."

"It's gorgeous, but I worry for you mental health.  Perhaps you should seek therapy."

"Perhaps.  After tonight.  I want my birthday present, my hand job, and my orgasm."

"Getting to be a greedy little bastard, aren't you?"

"It's all your fault.  You spoil me terribly."

"You only think I spoil you because your own toothbrush looks like a goldmine."

Ron gave Draco a cheeky sort of grin, and rolled out of bed.  "I have to go back to Gryffindor.  I told Harry and Hermione that you want to celebrate tomorrow, so we're having my celebration today.  They said they won't give me my gifts until tomorrow, but I'm sure I can squeeze something out of them.  I can be very persuasive."

"I'm well aware.  Don't forget to come see me tonight."

"I won't."

Ron leaned over Draco's body, wrapped his fingers around Draco's left hip, and planted a kiss on his neck.  Smirking a coy little smile that made Draco squirm, Ron left the room.  When did Weasley get so daring and so irresistible?  Draco barely had time to ponder when a voice interrupted his thoughts.  He felt like he was going to vomit.

"That was a disgusting display."

Crabbe was leaning against the jamb of the bathroom doorway, his arms folded across his chest.  Dark brown eyes were trained on Draco's, and though he tried to look away, he remained focused.  Sitting up, Draco tried to regain at least a little composure, but his attempts were failing at a wild pace.

"How did you get in here?"

"You aren't exactly secretive about your passwords."

"Why are you here?"

"Came for a visit.  I was just washing up when I heard Weasley come in, and then you joined him.  I thought you'd be upset, seeing Weasley in your room.  Especially when you only want to bugger him because he'd be a great lay, and ruining his innocence is so appealing.  I don't know about you, but Weasley didn't come off as being too terribly innocent to me."

"I'm just using him."

"Let us hope so.  I can't imagine what your father would say if there was something more.  Celebrating his birthday tonight, are you?  Haven't you forgotten something?"

Crabbe's eyes fell, lingering on the bright purple satire of the Dark Mark.  Draco tugged his sleeve down, holding his breath as the material cascaded down his arm, breaching on his wrist.  Smirking, Draco shrugged.

"I'm standing him up.  Poor Weasel will be terribly disappointed when I'm not here.  Thought I'd break it off to him in a letter.  No use hearing him wail like a little bitch about how I've done him wrong.  Granted, who would want to deal with emotions like that?  Don't worry about me.  I'll be there.  I haven't forgotten about a thing."

"Funny, because I could have swore that Weasley seemed to know about tonight."

"Curious.  You must have been hearing things.  Perhaps you should go see Madam Pomfrey."

"Perhaps I'm not the only one."

Crabbe sneered at him before turning, and stalking out of the Head Boy room.  Sinking to the bed, Draco allowed his head to drop into his open palms.  His father was bound to know now, if he hadn't known before, and Draco could start ticking off the hours he had left to live.  There were few options left, but either way, he had to keep his father away from Ron.

Discarding his cloak, Draco walked into the bathroom and began to scrub at his forearm.  The ink came off with ease, and lavender water sprinkled against the marble.  His arm was rubbed raw, bright red, and on the brink of bleeding once Draco got the last of the ink stains off his pale skin.  Without bothering to check his hair in the mirror, Draco left his room, and hurried down the prefects corridor.

Later, when reflecting, Draco still wouldn't be able to pin what went through his mind.  One second there was a thought, clearer than anything had ever been, and then it was gone.  Even if fragments did come back (which they did occasionally), he still would never understand it as clearly as he did that second.  Because of this, he was never able to justify his actions to himself, much less anyone else, and he would never understand why anyone forgave him for that moment in time.

Less than an hour later, Crabbe and Goyle entered the Slytherin common room.  On Saturday afternoons during the winter, the common room was usually full, but it was a Hogsmeade weekend, and most of the third, forth, and fifth years had gone to the village.  For the sixth and seventh years, the novelty was starting to wear off, and they had library assignments.  First and second years were still fascinated with the school, and did not like being holed up in the common room too long.  They were out playing in the snow.

Accordingly, Crabbe and Goyle expected an empty common room.  What they found was Draco Malfoy, laying spent oven an unfamiliar Gryffindor sixth year.  His dark blond hair was plastered to his forehead, and he was still trying to catch his breath and dress.  Draco was already clothed, fixing his hair to its usual level of perfection.  He barely glanced at Crabbe and Goyle as they entered, each wearing a surprised expression of different demeanor and severity.

"I guess I was wrong about you," said Crabbe, smirking at the flustered boy.  He was hurrying even faster now, and Draco feared that he was going to hurt himself if he didn't slow down, not that Draco cared.

"I told you I was only using him.  Just like I was only using him."  Draco jabbed his thumb at the boy, who looked blankly back.  "Oh come now.  You didn't think I was going to invite you back for a second round, did you?  Honestly -- Gryffindors."

"Don't I know it," said Crabbe, "but they're so much easier than Hufflepuffs.  They're so loyal and that rot.  They just need that commitment before they'll hop into bed.  Gryffindors will sell out their bodies to almost anyone, but they always want something in return."

"I don't want anything," said the boy.  "I just didn't expect you to be so blunt.  Everyone knows how you are."

He readjusted his tie, tossed his hair out of his eyes in a smooth way that Ron lacked, and headed for the exit.  Glaring at Crabbe first, then Goyle, he walked out.  Unlike Ron, he didn't storm, and never once seemed to lose his pride.  Draco was suitably impressed, but his insides were screaming at him.  His head felt heavy, foggy, and he wanted nothing more than to rid himself of the boy.  He wanted Ron's taste lingering in his mouth.  He wanted Ron's voice still vibrating in his mind.  He wanted to be cleaned of the other boy, and repossessed by Ron.

Crabbe didn't say anything more as he passed Draco, a malicious smile plastered on his face.  There was no doubt in his mind that Crabbe had known just how much Ron meant to Draco, even if Draco was still unsure.  He probably couldn't wait until supper, when he could charge over to Ron and tell him what Draco had done.  It would be a public thing, and Draco wished that Crabbe would have the good sense to keep his mouth shut.

"What the fuck did you do?" snapped Goyle.  Draco refused to meet his eyes.

"What are you talking about?"

"You - Brandon Corey?"

"Who?"

"The guy you just fucked!"

"Oh, him.  Is that his name?"

"Draco!"

"Is that a yes?"

Goyle didn't answer, and when Draco looked up, he wished he hadn't.  He had never seen Goyle's eyes so cold before, boring into his own.  He had never seen so much disgust in a single glance.  If he hadn't felt dirty before, he certainly felt filthy now.  All he could think about through the entire charade was Ron.

"How could you do that to him?  To yourself?  What was that supposed to accomplish?  Congratulations, Crabbe's got leverage over you.  You should be very happy.  Your father is going to know how much you fear him and even more how much Weasley means to you."

"Just shut up, okay?  I don't know - something just came over me.  He was in my room this morning."

"Crabbe or Weasley?"

"Both, now that you mention it.  Crabbe was there - heard me and Ron . . . I was scared that he'd go to my father because of tonight.  I didn't want Ron to be hurt."

"So you fucked another guy.  Good idea, Draco.  That won't hurt Ron at all.  I'm sure he'll be right chipper to find that out."

"You aren't going to tell him, are you?"

"No, because I know what Weasley means to you, and I know what you mean to him.  Weasley adores you, Draco.  Now that I've witnessed this, I can't imagine why.   You better pray to the gods who will listen to your sorry excuses that he never finds out.  For your sake, I hope you're properly ashamed."

Draco wasn't given a chance to respond, because Goyle brushed by him, and then he was alone.

~*~

Ron, Harry, and Hermione were sitting around a table in the Gryffindor common room when Brandon Corey entered, sweaty and reeking of sex.  They had just returned from a visit to Hagrid, and were drying their clothes out by the fire rather than using spells at Ron's request.  He claimed it was like being a kid again.  Since returning, they had changed into dry, warmer attire, and Ron was in the middle of annoying Harry about his birthday gift when Brandon came in through the portrait hole looking thoroughly peeved off.

"Hi, Brandon," said Hermione.  She had taken to making friends with him several years ago when Ginny was still alive, because he had been a friend of Ron's sister.  He gave her a scathing glare, seemed to feel guilty for doing so, then apologized.

"Sorry, didn't mean to be rude to you.  Just a little upset is all."

"Why?" she asked, looking over his disheveled appearance.  "You look like you were pretty happy.  Unless . . . were you in a fight?"

"No," he snapped.  "I had sex."

"That was my first impression."

"Yeah, well, I was just ever so kindly told that I was just being used.  Did you know that Gryffindors will sell their bodies out to whoever will take them, but they always expect something in return?"

"Sounds like the Malfoy of old," said Harry, directing his gaze at Ron.

"You heard that fucking rumor about Malfoy calming down, too?  Well, don't fucking listen to it.  I just spent that last twenty minute being fucked by him, and then as soon as his Slytherin friends show up, I was chucked out.  I can assure you, it's the Malfoy of the present.  I can't believe I was actually naive enough to think that Malfoy would stop using people.  Once a heartless bastard, always a heartless bastard."

Brandon continued to rant, not seeming to realize that Ron had gone deathly pale beneath his freckles.  Hermione and Harry had grown silent, each one sneaking glances at Ron from the corners of their eyes.

"You do mean Draco Malfoy, right?" asked Harry.

"Of course I mean Draco Malfoy.  How many of those Malfoy fuckers do you think go to this school?  Only one bastard who fucks whatever will let his penis in as far as I know."

From the colorless shade his skin had been, which emphasized his freckles and freakishly displayed his veins, Ron turned a bright shade of pink.  This clashed horribly with his hair and freckles, making him look like a very large strawberry.  From pink came red, and Harry knew from past experiences with his angry Uncle Vernon that a deep purple was going to come next.  Ron never got past the radish stage, however, because as soon as his freckles started to blend into his face, he stormed toward the portrait hole.  Brandon watched, his jaw slack.

"What did I say?" he asked.

"It's complicated," said Hermione, quickly.

"Is he going to be okay?  I don't want to piss him off, too."

"I honestly don't know, Brandon.  Listen, I'll talk to you later, okay?  I want to go after Ron."

Brandon nodded, and Hermione went after the portrait hole.  Harry was already chasing Ron down the hall, but was unable to stop his rampage.  When Hermione caught up, she was more trouble than help, as her constant habit of getting in his way was infuriating Ron.  They followed him down staircase after staircase, and when they got to the prefects corridor, were completely baffled.  Marching right up to an unmarked door, Ron hissed something indistinguishable at it, and they could hear a clicking sound.  Ripping the door open, Ron didn't even bother to close it when he stomped inside.

Harry and Hermione hung in the doorway.  Inside, they could see that Ron had led them straight to the Head Boy room.  Draco and Goyle were shouting about something when Ron walked in, and Harry shivered when Goyle gave Ron a sympathetic look.

Staring Draco straight in the eye, calmer than he had been since first leaving Gryffindor, Ron said, "I hate you."

"Ron -"

"Don't say my name.  I don't want you to filthy that up, too."

"You don't understand."

"What don't I understand?  I think that my boyfriend fucked around on me behind my back.  I think he shagged someone else the day before my birthday.  What do you think?"

"It seems like that, Ron -"

"Weasley.  Don't call me Ron.  If you're going to call me something, use my surname."  Draco's eyelids fluttered shut, and he breathed a deep sigh.  "Lift up your head, Malfoy, and look me in the eye.  You don't warrant the right to feel sorry for yourself.  The only person who anyone should feel pity for is me.  Then again, maybe we should pity you.  You just lost the best thing you ever could have asked for."

"I know," Draco whispered.  "Listen, Ron - Weasley - you don't understand.  My father -"

"I don't care about your father.  I don't care what your father would do to me.  All I care about is what you did, and that hurts."

"How did you find out?"

"Straight from the mouth of the object of your infidelity. Imagine my surprise when I was celebrating my birthday early with my friends because I reserved tomorrow for you, and I got a gift early.  The truth."

"You weren't supposed to find out that way."

"And that's why you shagged a Gryffindor."

"I didn't know he was a Gryffindor.  I - he was the first person I came across."

"Yeah, Draco, that really justifies what you did.  Congratulations on having the worst excuse for cheating ever.  I really hope you enjoy a life of solitude and endless strings of one night stands, because that's all you're ever going to have.  I guess Anthony fucked you up a lot more than any of us could have guessed, but that doesn't excuse anything.  I should have listened to Harry."

"Ron -" said Draco, stilling.  He had no words to say, and he couldn't bear having Ron look at him like that.  The only words that could come to his mind would be, "I'm sorry," but they felt very trite, and not nearly enough.  He said them anyway.

"That may be true, but . . . I can't trust you, and I can't even look at you right now without being angry and disgusted.  I fucking hate you for doing this to me."  Ron rubbed at his forehead with his thumb and index fingers.  "Why - I thought - "

"I was trying to preserve us," said Draco, miserably.  "Crabbe knew.  He was in my room this morning.  He heard us.  He was going to report to my father.  I had to show him that you didn't mean anything to me.  It was the only way . . ."

"You could have told me!"

"I - I'm an idiot, Ron.  I know."

Ron shook his head, choking on a sob, and turned to leave.  This was a scene Draco felt he witnessed far too much, Ron walking out on him, and Draco stopping him with a plea.  Nothing was going to stop him this time, but it didn't stop the attempt that flew out of Draco's mouth.

"I love you."

Stopping where he stood, Ron locked eyes with Harry first, then Hermione, who were still standing in the doorway.  Without bothering to turn around, perhaps because he would falter if he did, Ron shook his head slowly.  The copper fringe of his hair fell into his eyes, but this time, he didn't try to brush it away.

"No, you don't."

With that, he was gone.

Harry and Hermione watched after Ron, and Hermione was the one who hurried after him.  Goyle was still staring at Draco, a similarly expression on his face to what he previously wore, leading Harry to believe that this profession was not something new to him.  Probably plotted ways of getting Ron back into Malfoy's bed together.  Scowling, Harry had the urge to walk right up to Malfoy and punch him in the face, but Malfoy acted first.  He took off toward the door, his pale face flushed, his grey eyes bloodshot.

"Draco," said Goyle, "know when to go after a person, and when not to.  If you ever want to get Weasley back, you've got to give him time to cool off."

"But - he - "

"Listen to your friend, Malfoy," said Harry, tersely.  "And you can forget about ever getting Ron back.  You've never deserved someone as wonderful as him, and he's never deserved someone as repulsive as you.  How dare you tell him you love him after what you did?  If you loved him, you never would have done it."

"I did it because I love him," said Draco.  His eyes were flashing dangerously, but Harry didn't seem to notice.

"Keep telling yourself that, Draco.  Maybe one day, you'll be delusional enough to believe it, but Ron has friends who look out for him.  You can count on the fact that we won't let him be so easily manipulated.  I let him make the mistake of being with you, but a good friend doesn't let someone make the same mistake twice.  If Ron wants to talk to you again, I won't stop him, but you can be sure that I won't be letting him get back to being your bitch."

"He wasn't - oh, why the fuck am I telling you, anyway?  Like you could understand."

Harry glared at Draco, wanting to pursue the topic further, but Ron and Hermione were disappearing from view.  Following on his earlier instinct and punching Malfoy in the nose, Harry left the Head Boy room, and hurried to catch up with his friends.  Hermione had her arm wrapped around Ron's waist, and from the sobbing he could hear, Harry deduced that Ron was crying.  Only twice before had Harry seen Ron cry, and every time it was strangely unsettling.  It wasn't a sight Harry liked to see, and he kept somewhat of a distance from Ron's side as he joined them.

~*~

After visiting the hospital wing for his nose, Draco wandered down the Hogwarts corridors.  Just this morning, he had been walking these same halls with Ron waiting for him in the Head Boy room.  Now, Ron wanted nothing to do with him.  Draco didn't know how he could have fouled up so badly when all he ever had were the best intentions.  At least his intentions were of a good nature recently, unlike the way they had been in the beginning, but he hadn't wanted to lose Ron then, either.

Ron.  Draco needed to see him, to explain his thought process as best he could from beginning to end.  He needed to hear that there was a possibility that Ron could one day forgive him, even if that day was decades into the future.  He wanted Ron to know that he did love him, and that it could be the one thing he shouldn't doubt.  If he had a time turner, he'd go back in time and stop himself before it could happen, no matter what the possible repercussions could be.  Anything had to be better than this.  A part of him hoped that his father would come and kill him when discovering that Draco was refusing the mark.  Death was better than a life without Ron.

After wandering the halls for what seemed like ages, and then the Hogwarts grounds, he headed for Gryffindor tower.  He was never going to sleep without talking to Ron, and if he knew the other boy, there was no way that he was going to sleep, either.  The walk to the seventh floor was longer than Draco ever remembered it being, and he was greeted by a very frumpy and unsettled fat lady.  She must have heard what happened, because she was very rude to him, and refused to let him in.  When he asked for Ron, she told him that he wasn't there.  The next thing Draco did was probably very stupid in retrospect, but it was the only thing he could think of.  He asked for Harry.

The portrait hole opened moments later, and Harry yanked him inside.  From a corner of the room, Draco could see the same boy sitting in the corner, staring at him with accusation and vengeance.  Draco felt as if a knife had been twisted into his stomach.

"What do you want, Malfoy?  Come to harass some more of Gryffindor?"

"I didn't harass anyone."

From the corner, the boy scoffed.

"You've got some nerve coming here," said the boy.  "What do you want?"

"Nothing from you," said Draco, sneering.  "Listen, Potter, I need to talk to him.  Where is he?"

"Your guess is as good as mine.  He snapped at me and Hermione before taking off some time before dinner.  I haven't seen him since."

"It's getting kind of late, don't you think?"

"Maybe he found a new warm body to occupy his time."

"Ron isn't like that."

"He's not the type to go with you, either."

"Point received.  Really, Potter, where is he?  I need to talk to him.  I've been walking all around this school, and I haven't seen him anywhere."

"It's a big school, Malfoy."

"Potter, aren't you worried about him?  He's upset, and he's alone.  Who knows what he'll do?"

Harry hesitated, the nodded.  "I'll be right back."

Draco felt every eye in the common room land on him, especially those of the boy and his friends.

"Who are you looking for?" the boy finally asked.

"Ron Weasley."

"Why?"

"Because I need to talk to him."

"About?"

Draco sighed.  "You."

"Why?"

"Bloody hell, you ask a lot of questions."

"Why are you looking for Ron?  What is there to talk about?  We shagged, you threw me away.  Just like everyone else."

"Not like everyone else," snapped Draco.  "Not Ron."

"Did you shag him, too?"

"He's my boyfriend."

Brandon grew silent, then snickered.

"For how long?  Two weeks, then you cheat on him?"

"For your information, it's three and a half months, and it's none of your business why I cheated on him."

"I'm the one you shagged.  I think it is my business."

"No, it's not.  It's between Ron and me."

Footsteps approached, and Harry walked back into the common room with a piece of old parchment in his hands.  He shoved it in his pocket, and glanced over to Brandon.

"Did I miss something?"

"We were just talking," said Brandon.  "Hey, Harry, when you find Ron, tell him I'm sorry.  I never would have done what I did if I'd have known there was something going between him and Malfoy."

"I'm sure he's not angry with you," said Harry.  Tugging on Draco's sleeve, he guided him to the portrait hole.  They climbed out into the corridor, and Harry turned to face Draco.  His face was ashen, and he kept fumbling with the parchment in his pocket.

"Well?  Should we start looking?"

"It's no use," said Harry.  "He's not on Hogwarts grounds."

"What?"

"I said he's not on Hogwarts grounds.  We've got to go to Dumbledore.  Ron's in trouble."

**I'd like to thank everyone who is reading this.  I'm sorry I don't respond to individual reviews, but it takes a lot of time.  If you want an individual response, I've put my E-mail at the top.**

**Let me know if you find any good new Ron/Draco.  Keep reading.**

**~****Erin******


	16. Deceptions

**Penname: Page of Cups**

**Email: AndromedanPrincess@hotmail.com**

**Title: Everything Changes**

**Pairing: Ron Weasley/Draco Malfoy**

**Rating: R**

**Summary: Draco's afraid, Ron's afraid, and Lucius is having a good time**

**Disclaimer:  Refer to first chapter.  Tis tedious repeating that am not J.K..  Am poor.  Do not have money.  Would be waste of time and energy to sue me.  Am broke college student.**

**Chapter Sixteen:  Deceptions**

Lucius Malfoy stared across from him to the youngest Weasley boy, who was currently bound to a chair in the Manor sitting room.  He had wanted something a little more creative than a chair, but Narcissa hadn't been paying much attention again when he made his request.  Perhaps he should reduce the amount of medication he was giving her these days, though she had been a pesky little bitch this morning.

Ron felt completely helpless, and rightly so.  He had been brooding on Hogwarts grounds about what had transpired with Draco when he was hit with the full body bind, and the next thing he knew, his wrists and ankles were bound.  The gag had come later when he tried to shout for help, and his body was dragged through dirt and mud.  When he later apparated with his captor, he imagined that he must have been dragged out of Hogwarts borders.  That was when he came into the light, and saw Lucius Malfoy standing across from him.

For a brief, glorious twenty seconds, the gag had been removed, but Ron had tried to bite Lucius's hand in a stupid attempt for freedom.  It did not please the elder Malfoy.  Now, for the past two hours, they had been sitting across from each other, staring.  Tedious business, that, doing nothing but staring at another human being for hours on end.  If Ron weren't so terrified, he would chance being bored.

"Wha ah ew koing to do wif me?" said Ron, and Lucius furrowed his brow.  Ron tried not to sigh.  It wasn't easy being articulate when one was gagged.  Didn't Lucius know that?

"What did you say?"

Ron shook his head, looked at Lucius as if he were stupid, and dropped his chin to his chest.

"I can't take the gag off.  You'll try to bite me again.  We wouldn't want that, now would we?"

"Ew ouldn't," said Ron, though a mouthful of cotton.

"What did you say?"

Ron rolled his eyes.  Lucius stood from his seat, walked over to where Ron was, and circled him.  Kneeling beside him, Lucius placed his palm flat against Ron's thigh, and with his other hand, ran his fingers through the copper strands of his hair.

"I can see why Draco was so attracted," he mumbled.  "If you want to live through the next hour, I suggest you do not try to bite me when I remove the gag.  Do we understand each other?"

"Es," said Ron, nodding for emphasis.  Anything to get this gag off.

His fingers worked quickly, and Ron breathed in as much oxygen as his lungs could gather when the material was removed from his mouth.  Glaring at Lucius, he watched as the man folded the gag, and then placed it in his pocket.  He returned to his chair opposite Ron, and they went back to staring at each other.  In the corner of the room by the fire, Narcissa had returned to sit in one of the chairs.  Remembering what Draco had told him about his mother, Ron assumed that she was drugged.  In fact, she hadn't looked his way once while he was there.  She just went about her business, making tea and reading books.

"What did you say to me?" said Lucius.  Ron caught his hard, blue eyes.

"I asked you what you were going to do with me."

Lucius smirked, a half-grin that Draco also possessed.  Ron had come to associate that look with sex, as Draco often took it on right before he went about ravishing him.  Thinking about Draco was painful, though, and Ron shut his eyes tight, trying to block it out.  The efforts only made Lucius's soft laughter echo that much louder in his ears.

"What do you think I'm going to do with you?"

"I haven't a clue."

"Then let me fill you in, Weasley.  As I'm sure my son has been kind enough to inform you, there is a Death Eater ceremony tonight.  An initiation ceremony.  Whether or not my son will be present has yet to be determined, but if he is there, all the better.  I'm also assuming that he has not filled you in on what goes on in said ceremonies.  Correct?"

"Something like that."

"Allow me to enlighten you.  For each Junior Death Eater, there is a virgin sacrifice."

"Hope this doesn't ruin your plans, but I'm not a virgin."

Lucius's lips twitched at that one.

"There is a sacrifice," Lucius repeated.  "Chosen by the Dark Lord himself procured by a Senior Death Eater, the fledgling is required to complete three acts with their sacrifice:  torture, rape, and murder."

"I'm a sacrifice, then, am I?"

"Weasley, don't degrade yourself.  Sacrifices are reserved for Muggles and Mudbloods.  No, we've found a much greater use for you.  You see, Weasley, you lost me my heir.  That was a very stupid thing of you to do.  You're a gift, shall we say.  A little something to make up for Draco's loss, and if by your capture we get him anyway, then that would make us all very happy."

"Hate to disappoint you, but whatever you've heard about Draco and I, it isn't true."

"Isn't it?  You know what I heard?"

"Probably that Draco and I were in a relationship of a romantic sort.  I can assure you, we weren't.  If you're trying to lure him here, you're wasting your time.  He won't even notice that I'm gone."

"That sounds like low self esteem talking," said Lucius, frowning.  "Can't imagine why you'd have that.  No matter.  As it is, your connection or lack there of to my son has little to do with why you're here.  I believe your best friend is one Mister Harry Potter, is he not?"

Ron's face fell.  So that's what this was about.  They were trying to get to Harry, and Harry was already worried about Ron.  He was here to replace Draco, to get to Harry.  His head was spinning, and he couldn't stop himself before leaning over just far enough not to hit himself when he vomited.  Lucius called for a house elf to clean up the mess, and looked on at Ron with his lip curled.

"Then again," said Lucius, "the Dark Lord may have further plans for you.  We shall see.  And if my son or Mister Potter do not come for you, then we'll just end your life.  Shouldn't matter much.  One less Weasley to reckon with.  Cutting down the most revolting wizarding family one by one.  First the stupid girl, and then the ravenous boy."

"Shut up about my family."

Lucius cocked his head to the side, and kneeled down before Ron.  Carelessly, he swished his wand forward, and said, "Crucio."

Ron was screaming.  He couldn't breathe.  His lungs were aching against his chest as they sought oxygen, but if any was there to relieve him, Ron would never know.  The exploding pain in his body, the burning sensations taking over his limbs, would not allow him to think of anything other than the fact he felt like he was being torn apart.  Relief only came when a vague murmur was heard, and Ron looked up into the startled grey eyes of Narcissa Malfoy.

~*~

It was a difficult task to explain the Marauder's Map to Draco all while trying to get to Dumbledore's office without being caught after hours.  By the time Draco actually shut up long enough for Harry to reveal the invisibility cloak, it was after curfew.  Walking around Hogwarts with Draco and still keeping the cloak on didn't prove to be an easy task either.  Harry was starting to doubt his opinions on Draco's true feelings for Ron as the other boy practically dragged them through the corridors.  Twice now, the cloak had slipped off, and Harry couldn't walk, think, keep the cloak on, and explain about the map all at one time, so when they reached the gargoyle, Harry put the Stupefy spell on Draco.

"Would you listen?" hissed Harry.  "What do you plan on telling Dumbledore?"

"I - I hadn't really thought about it."

"Obviously.  Listen, Dumbledore is going to want a few explanations.  I'm parting with my map for Ron, so you had better have a good excuse.  Think, Malfoy."

"Well, I guess we'll tell him that I got into a bit of a row with him -"

"A bit?"

"He doesn't need to know that nature of the severity of the fight," said Draco, glaring.  "Anyway, Ron went off alone, and we let him because he needed to relax.  Then, when I came looking for him, I couldn't find him.  I came to you, because I thought you'd know where he was.  Then you told me he wasn't on Hogwarts grounds anymore, and something about a map.  That's all I know."

"And then I'll explain about the map, and how I know that Ron isn't on the grounds anymore.  You know he's going to want some explanation for why Ron was taken.  Have any theories?"

"I don't know!"

Draco buried his head into his arms, releasing a dry sob.  Harry felt very awkward watching this emotional moment, but steeled himself remembering everything that had happened today.  He started guessing the password to the office, and eventually the gargoyle started to move at the mention of sugar quills.

"Do this often?" said Draco.

Harry only shrugged, barging into Dumbledore's office.  He was still up, sitting at his desk and shifting through pieces of parchment.  Glancing at Harry and Draco over the top of his half-moon spectacles, he stilled in his work.  It wasn't every day that Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter came into your office together for a reason that seemed to be other than fighting.

Clearing his throat, Dumbledore said, "Is there something I can help you two with?"

There was a lot of confusion, and a lot of jumbled words as both Harry and Draco tried to tell the story at the same time.  Once Dumbledore had calmed them down, Draco got through his portion of the story, followed by Harry.  The headmaster didn't seem completely surprised at the map, though somewhat delighted, perhaps at now knowing just what exactly the infamous makers had used on their late night excursions.

"Have either of you any idea where Mister Weasley may have gone?" asked Dumbledore.

"Nowhere that I know of," said Harry.  "He wouldn't just wander off the grounds.  I know Ron.  Even if he was upset . . . You don't think that Voldemort could be behind it, do you?"

Dumbledore gave him a half-nod.

"It is possible."

Just at that moment, the door to Dumbledore's office banged open, and Professor McGonagall entered with an extremely familiar looking woman.  Harry surveyed her, trying to place her, but then Draco turned around, and his pale face flushed with blood.

"Mum!  What are you doing here?"

"I ran into Mrs. Malfoy on the first floor.  She said she needed to speak to you, headmaster," said McGonagall.  Dumbledore motioned for her to take a seat, and then McGonagall was dismissed.

"Is it safe to assume that you're here on the same business as your son?"

"If my son is here on business of the youngest Weasley boy."

"Ron," said Draco.

"You have information for us?"

"He - Lucius took him.  He's been at the manor.  There was nothing I could do -"

"Is he okay?" asked Draco, not caring that he interrupted.

"Let her finish," snapped Harry.

"Narcissa," said Dumbledore.

"I didn't know what to do.  He was bound, gagged - Lucius had really done a number on him by the time I came to."

Harry noticed that Draco winced at her words.  Part (though only a small one) felt bad for him.

"He took the gag off.  I don't know what they were talking about.  Something about Death Eaters.  I'm not really sure.  Then I heard the screaming, I started coming back, and I realized Lucius had put Cruciatus on the boy.  I didn't know what to do, so I used one of the curses I remember learning as a little girl.  One for abused wives against their husbands.  The boy was weak; I wasn't much stronger, mind you.  I couldn't apparate for us both, but I could alone.  So here I am."

Draco was completely silent from that moment on.  Dumbledore went about procuring them a Portkey to the Manor, and while doing so, explained that he was going to go to the ministry to report what had happened.  Narcissa was to bring Ron back, and after many requests and pleas, Draco and Harry were granted permission to go along.

Harry could see that Draco was not going to be well again until he laid eyes on Ron, and knew he was safe.  Narcissa led them inside, and into the sitting room, but when they arrived, she almost fainted herself.

"They were right here when I left . . . Lucius . . ."

"Where is he?" asked Draco.  His skin had gone a sickly grey as he clung to his mother.  "Where is he?"

"I left him right here," she stammered.

"He wasn't dead, you twit," said Draco, swaying on his feet.  "He wasn't dead!  How could you leave him alone with father?  You know what he's like!  How could you have left him alone?"

"Draco, darling, calm down," said Narcissa, but her voice sounded just as unstable as Draco's.

Narcissa was still staring at the empty spot where she had left Ron and her husband's body as Draco dropped to the floor.  Curling his body into himself, Draco was rocking on the ground, repeating, "They've got him," over and over again.  Harry didn't know who to feel worse for, and he was certain he had lost his mind when he dropped to the floor next to Draco, and wrapped the other boy in a hug.

"We're going to find him," said Harry.  "Don't worry."

"They've got him," said Draco.  His voice was haunting to Harry, detached, and hollow.  "He can't die.  Not now.  I need him.  He needs to know that."

"Draco, it's okay.  Ron's brave.  He'll be okay.  We'll find him."

"He has a big mouth, Potter.  That Gryffindor bravery is going to get him killed.  They've got him.  You don't understand."

"Make me understand."

"My father was talking about Death Eaters."  Draco stopped rocking, and Harry pulled back to catch Draco's eyes, piercing into his own.  "If my father was talking about Death Eaters, he took Ron for a similar purpose.  Tonight was supposed to be my Death Eater initiation.  Me and Goyle.  There's a ceremony.  That's where they've got to be.  There's not a question of finding him.  There's a question of how to keep him alive."

"I don't understand, Malfoy."

"I told you so."

"You aren't doing a good job of making me understand, either."

"Potter, there are several different kind of people at these ceremonies.  Junior Death Eaters, which are those who have already received the mark but have only recently joined, Senior Death Eaters, sacrifices, fledglings, bait, and the Dark Lord himself.  Ron is either a sacrifice, or he's bait.  Either one is not a good position to be in."

"Bait?"

"Are you ready to run in the middle of their Death Eater circle for him?"

"Yes," said Harry, nodding.

"So am I," said Draco.  "See.  Bait.  Then again, he could be both."

"Both?"

"Bait and a sacrifice, depending on my course of action.  If I don't show up, bait for you.  If I do show up . . . my father - if he knows about me and Ron, he's sadistic enough to make Ron my sacrifice."

"And what does that entail."

"Performance of the Unforgivables and rape.  Imperius and Cruciatus, first, then the rape, ending with the killing curse.  It has to be done with indifference and impartiality.  Failure to comply results in death."

"What do you propose?"

"I don't know . . . he can't die, Potter.  He thinks that he means nothing to me.  Today - I don't know what that was.  Crabbe was in my room, heard me talking to Ron . . . he knew I wasn't planning on taking my mark tonight.  And because he knew, and he told my father, this happened.  I was trying to prevent this.  I don't care what happens to me, I just want him safe, and I buggered it up."

Draco twisted his fingers in his hair, fisting the strands.  His eyes were watering, and Harry couldn't tell if it was from the pain or from the thought of losing Ron.  When he was sitting there like this, pouring his heart out, it was hard to hate him.  In fact, it was almost easy to see why Ron had fallen so in love with him.  It didn't stop there, though.  Draco kept going, explaining his every last motivation that led to what had happened with Brandon Corey.  Draco was a mess through the entire thing.

"I love him, Potter.  I love him, and I only told him when it was too late.  He doesn't know.  He thinks - oh, gods, Potter, he thinks he means nothing to me, and he's my entire world.  I don't care if he hates me, but I need him to know that I love him.  I need him to know that I did what I did because I love him.  I don't care how he feels about me.  I just want him to be safe."

"We're going to save him, and then you can tell him.  We just need to get to that meeting."

"We aren't going to get there feeling bad for ourselves," said Narcissa, softly, causing the boys to jump.  She had been quiet for so long, they had forgotten she was there.  Giving Draco a brief hug, she pulled him to his feet, and motioned for Harry to come to her.  "Draco, your father was teaching you how to apparate, right?"  He nodded.  "I'm going to need your help, then."

Together, they apparated close to Hogwarts grounds, and Draco led them to the underground harbor where his boat would be waiting.  Their plans were made briefly, formulated as fast as possible as they traveled across the grounds.  When they reached their point of destination, Draco was surprised to see that Goyle was already waiting there.

"What are you doing here?" asked Draco.

"I could ask you the same thing, but I already know," said Goyle.  "I'm going to get my mark.  Or rather, Crabbe mentioned something to me about Weasley.  Said it was a good thing he didn't mean much to you, otherwise he wasn't going to be the only one tonight.  I pieced it together."

"He's my sacrifice," said Draco.

"That's what I figured.  I went straight to Dumbledore soon as I figured it out.  Told me that you had just been to see him, and that he was off to the ministry.  Well, you know how they are . . . they don't want to help at all, but there's a group of Aurors who are coming in for back up.  They're going to track us.  I thought I'd help as well.  What are your plans?"

"About the same as you.  Show up like I'm going to accept my mark, and when it comes time to take my sacrifice, allow all hell to break loose.  Harry and my mum are following us there.  Suppose we have a better chance now, don't we?"

"I'd say so.  We could use three more, especially you and Harry, and I'm sure you could use a team of six or seven Aurors."

"I wouldn't say no to that."

They were interrupted by the arrival of their boat, which was magically enchanted to take them to their meeting.  Draco and Goyle boarded, and not long after, Harry mounted his broom with Narcissa, and they followed after.  The trip took a good twenty minutes, and there were times when Harry lost sight of the boat up ahead, but he found a place off to the side of the island they had arrived at to hide.  The Aurors seemed to be there already, and one snuck over to Harry and Narcissa once Draco and Goyle had joined the other three fledglings.

Harry followed the Auror to the position he indicated, and listened patiently as he was given instructions.  It was uncomfortable hiding behind the large rock they had indicated, and stone was digging into his lower back as the ceremony started.  Sneaking a peak, Harry forced the bile that rose up his throat back down, refusing to give in.  Second in a line of five, bound and gagged to a makeshift wooden cross, was Ron.  He was either in an enchanted sleep or unconscious, but Harry was guessing the former.  Somehow, he had a feeling that the sacrifice would be awake for the full extent of their torture.

On the opposite side, Draco stood facing Ron.  He was not robed yet, as he was not yet accepted into the circle.  Someone was speaking, but Harry didn't recognize the voice.  Sometimes it sounded like Voldemort, and sometimes it sounded like someone entirely different.  The voice was addressing the fledglings, and Harry glanced across the gathering, looking for the Auror in charge, who was to give the signal to attack.

Harry hid in the shadows and waited.  It wouldn't be long now.


	17. Deliver Me From Evil

**Penname: Page of Cups**

**Email: AndromedanPrincess@hotmail.com**

**Title:  Everything Changes**

**Pairing:  Ron Weasley/Draco Malfoy**

**Rating: R**

**Summary: Wherein things come to a conclusion**

**Disclaimer:  My New Year's Resolution was to become J.K. Rowling, own ****Bloomsbury****, Scholastic, Warner Bros., and all other industries that own a slice of the Harry Potter pie so that I can become all-powerful and dominate the world!  Mwa ha ha ha ha!  Er – then pink elephants with bright orange polka dots flew by my window and I realized I was dreaming.  Damn.  Still just a broke college student.**

**Chapter Seventeen:  Deliver Me From Evil**

As anticipated, the Death Eater initiation ceremony started promptly at eleven-thirty.  Many cloaked figures made circles around the fledglings, which consisted of Draco, Goyle, and three other boys that Draco knew went to Durmstrang.  The Dark Lord was greeting the Death Eaters who had already arrived, and one Death Eater directed the fledglings to a spot in the center of the circle.  Just beyond where they stood, he could make out figures of the Aurors and Ministry officials who were here to try and take out as many as possible.  On the other side, several meters away, Draco made out five wooden crosses in the distance.  Sitting before them was a construction that looked something like an altar.  His head was pounding as the ceremony started.

Draco felt very out of place, kneeling before Voldemort with the other fledglings.  Without the customary robes that the other Death Eaters were wearing, Draco felt strangely naked, despite his many layers of robes.  Trying to remember the course of the ceremony, Draco instructed himself to stay calm until the battle would break.  He was confused, scared, and tried to keep his breath even when Voldemort stepped before him.

"Young Mister Malfoy, we didn't think you were going to show."

Draco remained silent, remembering that fledglings were not supposed to speak unless commanded to. His silence must have pleased Voldemort, because there was no reprimanding like there had been for the first boy.  Keeping his head tilted toward the ground and his eyes averted, Draco bit back the sobs threatening to escape his throat.  He willed his legs to stay still, no matter how badly they wanted to tear through the circle and take Ron into his arms.  Voldemort gave a sharp rasp to his shoulder and titled his chin upward, causing Draco to stare into two hollow, red eyes.

"Your father seemed to think that you weren't as loyal as you want us to believe.  You're going to prove your loyalty tonight, aren't you?"

Draco pressed his lips together, remaining silent.  Voldemort's lips turned into a horrible sort of grin that made Draco feel as if his insides had gone rotten.

"You know your place," he said, sounding pleased.  "You may answer.  You're going to prove your loyalty tonight, aren't you?"

"Yes, my lord," said Draco, bending over to kiss the hem of his robes.  The steady tone of his voice exuded a confidence that Draco didn't even know he had in him.  The horrible grin on Voldemort's face remained, a strange sort of merriment dancing in those blood red eyes.

"We have a very special gift for you," said Voldemort.

Turning around, he pointed his wand in Ron's direction.  The whole world seemed to stop turning as Draco steeled himself, hoping his face looked indifferent.  All previous attempts to stay somber were child's play compared to the mass of nerves Draco had to battle when Ron first screamed out in pain.  

His initial instinct was that Voldemort was cursing him, putting Ron through some form of excruciating pain, but moments later, discovered that all he had done was to pull him out of his enchanted sleep.

Still bound to the cross, Ron's head hung forward, his hair clinging with sweat to his brow.  His body twitched against his binds, a short series of spasms that Ron was too weak to control.  In fact, the first scream had been the most excruciating, because the ones that followed were little more than whimpers.  In the moonlight, Ron's skin had taken on a bluish hue, and his head snapped forward in a violent motion when he dry heaved.  There wasn't anything left in him to vomit up.  Draco was feeling a case of his own nausea.

"Don't worry," said Voldemort, his voice dropping so that only Draco could hear.  "We won't hurt him anymore than he already has been.  That privilege is entirely yours.  Your father has told me all about you and this boy.  It should be a great pleasure for you, and an excellent chance to prove yourself.  Do not disappoint."

He moved on to Goyle, and Draco's mask of indifference faltered only for a moment when Ron broke into dry sobs.  From somewhere in the crowd, there was a sharp intake of oxygen, and Draco wondered if it had belonged to one of the Aurors, Harry, or perhaps even Ron's Death Eater brother.  There wasn't much time to ponder, however, because as Voldemort addressed the fourth boy in line, Ron lifted his head just far enough to take in his surroundings.

Draco watched as his eyes scanned across the other crosses, and the altar from which they were to be sacrificed.  The slightest trace of disgust could be seen on Ron's lips as he moved his gaze to the Death Eaters, and he paled considerably when he caught Voldemort's voice.  From there, he went to the third most obvious spot in the crowd, the five boys who were not wearing masks and Death Eater hoods.  Never had Draco wanted to die as much as he did when his eyes first connected with Ron's, and the latter broke into pained cries. 

If Ron's whimpering and wailing bothered Voldemort, he never showed it.  Rather, Draco thought that the Dark Lord was rather enjoying himself.  There must be nothing quite like the tortured screams of an innocent, especially when more than one person was absorbing pain out of it.  Torn between running to Ron for comfort, and remaining a statue of apathy, Draco fought to keep his face expressionless, looking on Ron with no more than an impassive glance.  He could imagine Potter off to the side, waiting for the attack with the Aurors, and Draco's fingers itched for his wand.  Just wait a little longer, he commanded himself.

The boy to his left went first.  A Muggle woman, who was bound on the cross next to Ron, was released, and the boy's father carried her to the alter.  Ron, still bound, was helpless to do anything but listen and look as she was tortured with Imperius, and forced to mutilate her own body.  Her cries were deafening when the boy performed Cruciatus with admirable accuracy.  Then came the rape, the most horrible part of the entire ceremony in Draco's mind.  Like Ron, he was forced to watch, but unlike Ron, who was whimpering as much as the woman, Draco remained unmoved.

As he watched the woman suffer, Draco wished they could alter the course of action, and just stop things where they were before she could die.  A sympathetic part of his mind, however, thought that it had gone too far, and it was cruel to allow her to live.  Besides, to attack now would be futile.  Ron would die anyway, and Draco was still in the center of countless Death Eaters, all equipped with wands, at a position that the Auror in charge wouldn't be able to follow his lead.

Following Voldemort's orders, the boy ended his performance with the woman's murder, and her body was left lifeless as he rejoined the circle.  Receiving praises from the Dark Lord, Draco couldn't help but stare as the Dark Mark was burned into the boy's arm.  A hideous combination of serpent and skull, Draco could only think of Ron's version that had been tattooed on his own forearm this morning.  That bright purple hair did give it something extra.

"Draco Malfoy."

Voldemort's call yanked him from his reverie, and Draco forced his legs to stay still when he stood.  Keeping his chin raised, his head held high, Draco watched as a Death Eater (his father, he presumed) from the crowd moved forward, and removed Ron from his cross.  He was carried to the altar, and laid out upon it, looking very much of the part of the sacrifice that, in all reality, he was meant to be.

Ron lay perfectly still on the altar, his chest heaving with every breath taken.  His head had rotated to the side, his cheek laying flat against the wooden dais.  Their eyes connected as the Death Eater returned to his spot in the circle, and it was Draco who now began to move.  With every step he took, he reminded himself to keep his composure.  Every fear that must have been in Ron's heart was forcing its way into Draco's.  He could hardly remember to keep his shoulders squared, or his head held erect, as he approached.  Countless eyes were focused on his every move, and when Draco reached the clearing, he rounded Ron's body.

"So Harry was right all along," said Ron.  His voice had grown hoarse from the screaming, and he looked like he was going to pass out any moment.  "You were just waiting to hand me over."

Draco didn't wince.  Didn't even acknowledge that Ron had spoken as he slipped his hand into his robes, and wrapped his fingers around the ebony wood of his wand.  It felt powerful in his hands, and Draco had never before realized just how much destruction he could cause with this simple instrument.  This time, he wanted Voldemort to be the one feeling the pain, his father to be the one crying out for mercy.  He wanted Ron avenged.  He tried not to think about what could be going through Ron's mind right now.  Feeling inferior was never something he did very well.

When it all started to happen, it was in complete chaos.  One minute, Draco was staring into the dead weight of Ron's eyes.  They were expecting, waiting for the same treatment that had happened to the Muggle woman.  Resisting the urge to hold him, and promise him that he would never have to feel that kind of pain at Draco's hands, he concentrated on taking deep inhalations.  Ron barely had time to register what was going on before Draco made a sharp, about face turn, and started spitting out protection charms.

As soon as the first syllable left Draco's lips, the Aurors attacked.  Curses flew all around them as Draco undid the binds, startled to find that there were tears in Ron's eyes.  He tried not to acknowledge them, desperately needing something to remain stable.  His charms were fading, and he could briefly hear Potter yelling at him to take Ron and go before one of them got hurt.

"Draco?"

"Don't strain your voice," said Draco.  He sunk his fingers into Ron's hair.  "I'm here."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't you even say that.  I'm sorry."

"Draco -"

"Get him out of here, Malfoy!" said Harry.  Draco could see that the wards were wearing off.

No one else could apparate but the aurors, and they were needed for the battle.  Goyle and Potter both had yet to learn, and that left the task of getting Ron to safety in Draco's hands.  Part of his mind kept hissing at him that he didn't deserve to be so close in Ron's presence when he scooped up Ron in his arms, and it shouted even louder when Ron wrapped his arms around Draco's shoulder.  The screaming of curses, the shouting of hexes, all ebbed away with a single pop.  Only Crabbe seemed to see that Draco and Ron had gone.

They apparated to a point in the Forbidden Forest, which was just outside of the Hogwarts wards, and Draco had known about specifically for this purpose.  Not exactly getting away Ron, but in the off chance that he would need to escape the Death Eaters, he and Goyle had discovered this point last year.  Crabbe had been with them at the time, so he supposed that he shouldn't have been too terribly surprised when he flew forward through his courtesy.

"Means nothing to you, does he?" said Crabbe.

Ron flew from Draco's arms at the sudden shove of inertia, and landed face down.  He had been struggling to get up, but his arms were sore and weak from the binding.  Kicking him in the side, Crabbe sneered at him, and dug the heel of his foot into Ron's back.

"Don't do that to him," said Draco, wiping away a sliver of blood that was trailing from the corner of his mouth.  Just another result of Crabbe's little love tap.

"But you were just using him, Malfoy.  You just wanted to rid him of his innocence.  Break his heart.  Isn't that what you told me?"

"Leave him alone.  He didn't do anything to you."

Draco inhaled deeply, hoping that Crabbe didn't just see Ron vomit up blood.

"But this is your chance.  Your last one to destroy Weasley like you've been telling me you so desire."

"What do you want to hear?  That I don't want to hurt him?  That I love him?  What's wrong with that?"

"He's a Weasley, Draco.  Have you no shame?"

"I don't care if he's a Weasley.  If this life is my alternative, I'll take Weasley.  I'd take him even if it wasn't my alternative.  I just royally fucked up my life today.  Can't you just at least leave him be?"

Crabbe removed his foot from Ron's back, stepping aside.  He gestured in the direction of Hogwarts with his hand, sneering.

"Be my guest.  Get him out of my sight.  Just be careful about where you fall asleep tonight."

Draco paid him no attention as he hooked his arms around Ron, and hoisted him up to cradle against his chest.  Ron's head hung limply over Draco's forearm.  The fall, or perhaps the rate at which he was losing blood mixed with his internal bleeding, had sent him into a state of unconsciousness.  His body was shaking with tremors as Draco held him close and ran as fast as he could toward the school.

His feet echoed loudly against the floor when Draco first barged into the main entrance, and the commotion caught the attention of Peeves and the Hogwarts Professors.  Madam Pomfrey bristled at him when he first entered the infirmary, but once she saw the state that Ron was in, she took him away immediately.  He was forced to sit in silence on the opposite side of the room while she worked, and was forbidden to touch him once he was tucked in under crisp, white sheets.  His copper hair was fanned out around his head like a halo, and Draco snuck a kiss when the mediwitch wasn't looking.

~*~

Ron tried to roll over in bed, but several things would not permit this action to be performed.  The first was the excruciating pain in his side and head, shooting pangs through the parts of his body that didn't scream out at him.  This caused several memories of how those injuries had gotten there in the first place, and he remained with his eyes closed, fighting the howl rising in his throat.  Scenes of Malfoy Manor, Narcissa attacking her husband, Lucius binding him once she had gone, and the Death Eater meeting played over and over again.

The second was the giant weight resting on his stomach, which barely shifted when Ron woke.  Cracking open an eye, he was greeted by the sight of Draco's upper body sprawled across his.  He was fast asleep, looking something like an angel with the way his hair was unkempt, and resembling Harry's style.

"Hey," said Harry, while Ron was still looking over Draco.  The voice made him jump, and his hands instantly went to his side, which he found to be bandaged.  "Be careful, mate.  You'll damage yourself more than you already have."

Harry was seated in a chair by his bed, opposite from where Draco was sitting.  When Ron looked to him, he burst into one of his familiar grins that Ron had come to know so well.  It was part relieved, part amused, and made mostly so that no one could see just how nervous he had been before it appeared on his face.  When Harry was looking at a person like that, there was little Ron could do not to grin back at him.

"A few more bruises never hurt anyone," said Ron.

"Might hurt you, though.  You're already a giant bruise yourself.  I should go get Madam Pomfrey.  She wanted us to let her know when you were awake."

"Us?" asked Ron, his eyes moving to Draco.  Harry's relived grin turned into a sheepish one.

"Yeah, well . . . he's not that bad, you know."

"I know.  What happened?"

"Death Eaters."

"I know that much, Harry."

"Right."  Harry scrubbed his fingers through his hair, putting the strands into even more of a disarray.  Ron wouldn't have thought it possible if he wasn't witnessing it just now.  "You see, what happened was that after you and Draco got into that fight . . . he's sorry for that, you know."

"I don't want to talk about that right now.  Draco already told me he was sorry, and he's probably going to say it again when he wakes up.  Don't let me hear it from you, too."

"Right," he repeated.  "Well, he ended up coming around the common room, and he was looking for you.  He was worried, and to tell you the truth, so was I.  It was getting late, and you were upset . . . so, I finally got the map.  We couldn't find you, so we went to Dumbledore, and Draco's mother showed up."

"You're calling him Draco."

Ron thought Harry blushed at the comment.

"The point is, we went to the Manor, but you were gone, and Dra - Malfoy - started freaking out.  It wasn't good.  I don't know.  We really have Goyle to thank.  He went to Dumbledore just after we left and told him all about the meeting.  We wouldn't have been able to get you out of there, or lived ourselves, if it wouldn't have been for the Aurors."

Pulling his eyes from Harry, Ron let them set on Draco.  Curling the tips of his fingers around Draco's hand, Ron clenched his jaw together.  Off to the side, Harry mumbled something about getting Madam Pomfrey, stumbled to his feet, and left the room.

Once Harry had gone, Ron shifted his body up in bed, doing his best not to injure anything further.  Leaning forward, he placed his lips to the apple of Draco's cheek.  Draco shifted in his sleep, just barely pulling back from the warmth of Ron's body.  He brushed his thumb over Draco's jaw line, caressing the skin, and kissed his cheek a second time.  His eyelashes fluttered at the sensation, and Draco opened his eyes.

"You're awake," said Draco.

"You're observant."

"I mean, I know you're awake, but it's just . . . you've been out for a few days, and . . ."

"Draco, be quiet before you hurt yourself."

"How are you?  When did you wake up?  Potter was here, but -"

"Harry went to get Madam Pomfrey.  I haven't been up very long at all.  As for how I am, well, I feel terrible, but that can be overlooked."

"Ron, I -"

"If you're going to say you're sorry about something, please don't."

Draco chanced grinning at Ron as Madam Pomfrey came bustling in.

"Oh, Mister Malfoy, he'll be fine if you aren't by his side every second."

"Every second?" said Ron, arching an eyebrow.  Draco shrugged, laughing nervously, which caused Harry to go into a small fit of snickers.

His eyes never left Draco as Madam Pomfrey waved her wand over him, fixed bandages, and shoved potion after potion down his throat.  She was fussing over him, tucking the blankets around his body, and then she was gone.  Harry, Draco, and Ron found themselves in a thick silence, which Harry broke by clearing his throat.

"Right, then.  I'm just going to leave you two alone.  Er - if you need me . . ."  Harry bit his bottom lip, tossed glances between Draco and Ron, then headed for the door.  "When I see you both again, you better be on good terms."

"Good terms?" asked Ron, once the door had shut.  Draco shrugged.

"Recent developments seem to have made Potter crazy.  He finds it wise to hold me in high regards."

"That is crazy."

"Listen, Ron, I know you don't want me to say I'm sorry -"

"No, I really don't."

"But I am.  I . . ."  Draco sighed, crossed the distance between them, and sat on the side of Ron's bed.  "I can't justify what I did to you.  There was no good reason to do what I did.  Clearly I wasn't thinking things through, but I am sorry.  You were right when you said that Anthony fucked me up a lot more than anyone could ever guess."

"I didn't mean -"

"It doesn't matter what you meant.  You were right."  Draco hung his head, fumbling with his fingers.  "I am really messed up, but you've meant everything to me.  I can't take back what I did, and I can't justify it, but I want to try and make it up to you.  Show you what you mean to me."

"I might have a hard time learning to trust you again."

"I can handle it."

"Are you sure?"

"If I have to go to the end of the world for you just to prove to you that you can trust me - well, I'd do it.  If I have to go in the middle of a Death Eater ceremony again -"

"You completely terrified me with that."

"I know, but it was my only choice.  I had to make you believe I was against you, just as I had to make my father and Voldemort believe I was on their side.  I love you."

Ron's lips turned into a crooked grin.

"I know.  I love you, too."

"You just don't trust me."

"No, though saving me from Death Eaters did do a little something for you redemption."

"Good to know it wasn't done in vain."

"I think I'll be able to trust you again.  It's just going to take time, and a lot of dedication on your part."

"Anything to get you back."

"Get me back?  Now, Draco, what happened to not believing in relationships?"

"I don't know.  I fell in love with you.  Nothing stays the same when you're in love."

"That was very profound."

"Sod off, Weasley."

Wrapping their fingers together, Draco glanced out of the window.  Bright streaks of the sun were weaving in through the panes, and Draco snuck a peak over to Ron.  They were bouncing off the bright copper of his hair, making Draco grin.

"You do have really red hair."

Ron's face screwed up as he tried not to laugh.  Looking at Draco out of the corner of his eye, he said, "You have really white hair."

"My father says it's because I'm a Malfoy."

"What does that mean?"

Draco shrugged, shaking his head, and laughing.

"I still don't know."

"Fair enough."

Ron cupped Draco's cheek with his palm, leaned forward, and brushed his lips across the corner of Draco's mouth.  Smiling, he settled back into bed, not even noticing the dull throb in his side, something that may be attributed to Madam Pomfrey's medications.  His attention was turned back outside the window, Draco's eyes soon followed, and for that moment in time, everything was perfect.

**Finish**

**What can I say?  It's over.  Thanks for coming along with me.  It's been fun.**

**I do not write sequels on demand, and I do not see a sequel for this one.  My new story, The Prophecy of Absconditus, will be up soon.  Keep your eyes peeled for it, especially if you liked this one.**

**Love you all.  Keep in touch.**

**~****Erin******


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